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22    ANN     STREET. 













In  completing  for  the  Members  of  the  Hunterian 

,-  Club  the  firfl  colle6led   edition    of  the  Works   of 

^^        Samuel    Rowlands,    the    Council    begs    to    thank 

^         the  Rio^ht  Hon.  the   Earl  of   Ellesmere,  Mr.  S. 

Christie-Miller,  and  Mr.   J.   Payne  Collier  for 

lending  for  reprodu(5lion  or  collation  the  very  rare, 

in  fome  cafes   unique,  originals  in   their  poffeffion. 

The  Council  would  alfo  exprefs  its  grateful  fenfe  of 

the  help  which  in  this  refpe6t  it  received  from  the 

^,         late  Mr.  Henry  Huth. 

"^  The  principle  fleadily  kept  in  view  in  the  repro- 

^^-^  dudlion  of  the  feveral  pieces  now  brought  together 
has  been  to  preferve,  as  far  as  could  be  done  with 
^^  a  uniform  type,  the  appearance  and  chara6ler  of 
the  originals.  The  typographical  ornaments,  initial 
letters,  and  woodcuts  have  been  given  in  fac- 
fimile,  while  the  fame  exa6lnefs  has  been  followed 
in  the  text,  which  has  been  rendered  page  for 
page,  line  for  line,  and  word  for  word.  Mifprints 
have  therefore  been  retained,  but  a  number  of  thefe 
will  be  found  corrected  in  the  Notes  and  Gloffary, 
while  others  are  too  obvious  to  require  explanation, 
further  than  the  remark  that  they  are  not  due  to  the 
modern  printer,  whofe  part  has  been  done  with 
judgment  and  fkill. 

Excepting  in  one  or  two  cafes  the  trails   have 
'^  been    reprinted    from    Firft    Editions,    as    a    rule, 

j^  confidered    by   bibliographers    more   valuable    than 

\>  later  impreffions.      Rowlands   is  one  of  the  very 

few  amongft  the  many  writers  of  his  time  whofe 
works  had  an  extraordinary  popularity.  To  meet 
this  popular  demand  they  were  frequently  re- 
printed,  in  fome   inftances  with   additional  matter. 

J^*:PDQ>  i  JL. 

Prefatory  Note. 

The  textual  differences  between  the  firft  and  fub- 
fequent  editions  it  has  not  been  thought  neceffary 
to  point  out  in  detail.  Setting  afide  the  monetary 
outlay  this  would  have  involved,  without  any  corre- 
fponding  advantage,  there  was  the  almoft  infuperable 
difficulty  of  accefs  to  the  rare  and  widely  fcattered 
originals.  The  additional  matter,  however,  it  is  be- 
lieved, has  been  all  included  with  the  "  Mifcellaneous 

Although  Sir  Walter  Scott's  fhort  fketch  of 
Rowlands  and  his  Works — which  will  be  found  em- 
bodied in  the  Bibliographical  Index — might  poffibly 
have  fufficed,  it  was  thought  that  one  more  extended 
would  be  appreciated.  The  Council  therefore  aflced 
Mr.  Edmund  W.  Gosse  to  write  an  Introductory 
Memoir,  and  it  will  be  underftood  that  he  was  left 
entirely  free  to  form  his  own  unbiaffed  eftimate  of 
Rowlands'  place  in  our  early  literature. 

The  Notes  and  Gloffary  by  Mr.  Sidney  J.  H. 
Herrtage  will  be  found  helpful  in  explaining  many 
of  the  more  obfcure  words  and  phrafes  in  Rowlands' 
text.  They  might  have  been  confiderably  increafed, 
but  there  was  lefs  need  for  this  as  many  admirable 
parallel  helps  are  now  acceffible  to  the  ftudent. 

As  a  matter  of  bibliographical  intereft,  it  may  be 
ftated  that  only  Two  Hundred  copies  have  been  re- 
printed, exclufively  for  Members  of  The  Hunterl\n 
Club,  with  ten  additional  copies  for  prefentation  by 
the  Council. 

Glasgoav.  July,  1880. 

CONTENTS     OF    VOL.     I. 


GossE, 12  leaves. 

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  INDEX,      -        -        ...  23  do. 

SFAIRE,  1598, 30  do. 


HEAD-VAINE,   1600, 43  do. 

TIS  MERRIE  WHEN  GOSSIPS  MEETE,  1602,        -  23  do 

1602,  --...---.26  do. 

AUE  C^SAR.     GOD  SAUE  THE  KING,  1603,  -  10  do. 

^    LOOKE  TO  IT:    FOR,  ILE  STABBE  YE,  1604,         -  24  do. 

HELL'S  BROKE  LOOSE,  1605, 24  do 


DEATH,  [1606?], 22  do. 

DIOGINES  LANTHORNE,  1607,  -        -  24  do. 

)<.     HVMORS  LOOKING  GLASSE,   1608,  -        -        -        -  16  do. 





N  an  age  when  the  newly-awakened 
tafte  for  letters  had  fuddenly  thrown 
open  to  men  who  could  wield  a  pen 
every  door  that  led  to  the  arena  of 
literary  publicity,  Samuel  Rowlands 
made  lefs  effort  than  mofl  of  his 
contemporaries  to  gain  the  plaudits  of  the  cultivated, 
or  to  fecure  the  grarland  of  laftin^  fame.  His 
name  appears  in  no  lift  of  honoured  poets  in  his 
own  generation;  in  the  next,  his  writings  found  no 
editor,  and  his  life  no  biographer.  He  comes  down  to 
us  merely  as  a  voluble  pamphleteer,  of  whofe  nume- 
rous works  fome  are  altogether  loft,  and  others,  be- 
come nearly  unique,  are  purchafed  by  the  curious 
at  fuch  prices  for  a  fmgle  copy  as  the  author  never 
made  by  a  whole  edition.  Of  the  minor  mafters 
of  the  Greek  flage,  of  Ion  or  of  lophon,  we  have 
plentiful  record,  though  their  works  are  gone;  but  in 
the  cafe  of  the  leffer  ftars  of  the  Elizabethan  galaxy 
the  work  of  oblivion  has  been  reverfed — we  have 
their  works,  but  not  the  record  of  their  lives.  In 
no  cafe  has  hiftory  been  more  perfiftent  in  filence 

Memoir  on 

than  when  fummoned  to  give  us  news  of  Samuel 
Rowlands.  Of  almoft  every  other  writer  we  have 
fucceeded  in  difcovering  fomething;  but  of  him  no- 
thing. We  do  not  know  when  he  was  born,  or  when 
he  died,  whether  he  was  a  fcholar  of  either  univerfity, 
whether  he  had  taken  orders,  or  whether  he  had 
married  a  wife.  It  is  left  to  us,  therefore,  as  to 
thofe  who  map  the  heavens,  to  draw  an  approximate 
outline  of  his  life  by  the  conjun6lion  of  thofe  works 
or  ftars  that  form  his  conftellation.  They  are  very 
numerous,  they  extend  over  a  period  of  thirty  years, 
and  they  give  fome,  but  very  ilight,  internal  evidence 
of  their  author's  perfonality. 

In  all  probability  Samuel  Rowlands  was  born 
foon  after  1570.  We  may  roughly  conje6lure  that 
1573,  the  year  that  faw  the  birth  of  Donne  and  of 
Ben  Jonfon,  faw  his  alfo.  Should  this  be  corre6l,  he 
was  from  fix  to  eighteen  years  younger  than  the  five 
famous  friends  in  whofe  fteps  he  was  to  walk,  with  a 
gentler,  tamer  tread  than  theirs.  When  he  was 
about  ten  years  old.  Lodge,  Peele  and  Greene  began 
to  write,  and  it  was  not  long  before  Nalh  and  Mar- 
lowe joined  the  company  of  the  penners  of  love- 
pamphlets.  Thefe  men,  united  rather  by  their  pro- 
fligate habits  than  any  innate  fmiilarity  of  genius, 
were  among  the  firft  profeffional  men  of  letters  in 
England.  Lodge  and  Greene  began  as  Euphuifts, 
at  the  feet  of  Lyly ;  they  were  drawn  by  the  example 
of  Nafli  into  the  pra6lice  of  fatire,  and  into  the 
compilation    of   catch-penny    pamphlets   on    paffmg 

Samuel  Rowlands. 

events.  They  very  quickly  ran  through  their  brief 
careers,  and  had  already  died  or  retired  from  public 
life  before  Rowlands  began  to  write.  But  their  in- 
fluence had  been  immenfe;  they  had  inaugurated  a 
new  epoch  in  popular  literature;  and  though  the 
main  current  of  fuch  writing  proceeded  to  flow  in 
the  channel  of  the  drama,  they  flill  counted  their 
followers  in  the  younger  generation.  Of  thefe 
followers  Rowlands,  and  fifteen  years  later  Braith- 
wait,  were  the  moft  important,  and  to  both  of  thefe 
authors,  entirely  negle6led  for  more  than  two  cen- 
turies, public  intereft  has  of  late  returned.  That 
either  the  one  or  the  other  was  a  writer  of  much 
merit,  or  deferved  in  any  ftri6l  fenfe  the  name  of 
poet,  may  eafily  and  fafely  be  denied,  but  neither 
lacks  that  quality  of  force  that  renders  an  author 
worthy  of  more  than  mere  antiquarian  attention. 

Like  Drayton,  and  other  fecular  poets  of  that  age, 
Rowlands  commenced  his  career  with  a  volume  of 
devotional  pieces.  The  Betraying  of  Ckri/l,  which 
bore  the  more  apt  fub-title  of  Poems  on  the  Pajfion, 
appeared  in  1598,  and  went  through  two  editions 
within  that  year.  We  have  gueffed  the  age  of  the 
author  at  twenty-five,  and  certainly  the  ftyle  of  his 
verfes  gives  us  no  fign  of  precocity  or  extreme  youth. 
The  poems  are  indeed  remarkably  fmooth,  with  the 
even  grace  and  monotonous  polifh  of  a  writer  to 
whom  the  art  of  verfe  prefents  no  difficulties  and 
contains  no  furprifes.  They  are  compofed  in  an 
heroic  flanza  of  fix  lines,  rime  royal  with  the  fifth 

Memoir  on 

line  omitted,  and  this  form,  one  of  the  fimpleft  that 

can  be  devifed,  remained  a  favourite  with  Rowlands 

until  he  ceafed  to  pubHfh.      But  it  was   not  with 

nervelefs  paraphrafes  of  the  New  Teftament  that  he 

was  deftined  to  catch  the  popular  ear.     In  1600  he 

produced    two   works   which   greatly   extended   his 

reputation,  and  made  him,  if  not  famous,   at  leaft 

widely  notorious.      The  firft   of  thefe,    entitled   A 

Merry  Meeting,  or  tis  merry  when  Knaves  meet,  was 

fuccefsfully  fuppreffed  by  the  authorities,  and  has  only 

come  down  to  us  in  an  expunged  edition  of  1609. 

It  was  fo  oftenfive  in  its  perfonality,  fo  acrid  in  its 

fatire,  that  it  was  ordered  to  be  burned  publicly,  and 

in  the  Hall  Kitchen  of  the  Stationers'  Company.     A 

month    later   the   poet   hurried   through    the    prefs 

another  colle6lion,  The  Letting  of  Hu7noMr  s  Blood  in 

the  Head  Vaine,  and  this  has  fortunately  come  down 

to  us  in   at  leaft  four  copies.     It  is  a  very  creditable 

produ6lion,  full  of  the  animation  of  the  time,  with 

none  of  its  pedantry,  and  a  little  of  its  genius.     The 

greater  part   of  the   book    is   occupied   with   fmall 

fatirical  pieces,  called  Epigrams,  defcribing,  mainly 

in  the  fix-line  ftanza,  thofe  fantaftic  figures  of  the 

day  which  the  poets  delighted  to  caricature.     Thefe 

are  very  well  written,  clear,  pointed,  and  even,  never 

rifmg  to  the  incifive  melody  of  a  great  poet,  but 

never  finking  below  a  fairly  admirable  level,  while 

for  the  ftudent  of  manners  they  abound  in  pi6lurefque 

detail  and  realiftic  painting.      The  following  lines 

from  an  addrefs  to  the  poet's  contemporaries,  ftripped 

Samuel  Rowlands. 

of  their  antique  fpelling,  give  a  fair  notion  of  the 
modern  tone  of  the  book,  and  its  eafy  elegance : — 

*'  Will  you  Hand  fpending  your  invention's  treafure 
To  teach  flage  parrots  fpeak  for  penny  pleafure, 
While  you  yourfelves,  like  mufic-founding  lutes, 
Fretted  and  flrange,  gain  them  their  filken  fuits? 
Leave  Cupid's  cut,  women's  face-flattering  praife, 
Love's  fubjedl  grows  too  threadbare  nowadays, 
Change  Venus'  fwans  to  write  of  Vulcan's  geefe, 
And  j-ou  fhall  merit  golden  pens  apiece." 

The  diflike  of  the  theatre  here  fo  ftrongly  expreffed 
continued  to  the  laft,  and  Rowlands  feems  never  to 
have  been  tempted  to  try  his  fkill  in  the  lucrative 
field  of  the  ftage.  It  is  not  improbable  that  his 
facile  pen  and  experience  in  the  humours  of  low  life 
would  have  enabled  him  to  develop  a  comic  talent 
which  might  have  ranged  between  that  of  Dekker 
and  that  of  Hey  wood;  but  he  would  have  miffed  the 
tendernefs  of  the  former,  and  the  flowery  fancy  of 
the  latter.  The  end  of  the  volume  called  The 
Letting  of  Htimour  s  Blood  \s  compofed  of  fatires  in 
the  Roman  ftyle,  in  heroic  couplets.  Here  again 
Rowlands  fliows  rather  his  quicknefs  in  feizing  an 
idea  than  his  faculty  for  originating  one,  fince  the 
trick  of  writing  thefe  pieces  had  been  invented  by 
Lodge  in  1595,  and  had  been  imitated  by  Hall, 
Guilpin  and  Marfton  before  Rowlands  adopted  it. 
He  is,  however,  in  fome  refpe6ls  the  fuperior  of  thefe 
preceding  writers.  In  all  probability  he  was  not,  as 
they  were,  men  of  any  claffic  learning,  and  he  was 

Memoir  on 

feduced  by  no  defire  of  emulating  Perfius  into  thofe 
harfh  and  involved  conflru6lions  which  make  the 
fatires  of  Donne  and  Marflon  the  wonder  of  gram- 

The  early  Avorks  of  Rowlands  gave  promife  of 
much  greater  attainment  than  their  author  ultimately 
achieved.  His  fourth  book,  'Tis  Merry  when  Gojfips 
Meet,  publifhed  in  1602,  is  an  admirable  piece  of 
comedy,  bright,  frelh,  and  limpid,  and  compofed  in  a 
ftyle  only  too  dangeroufly  fmooth  and  rapid.  It 
opens  with  a  fine  tribute  to  Chaucer,  "  our  famous 
reverend  Englifli  Poet,"  and  proceeds  to  give  a 
valuable  piece  of  contemporary  manners  in  a  con- 
verfation  between  a  gentleman  and  a  bookfeller,  in 
profe.  The  gentleman  has  no  tafte  for  new  books; 
he  prefers  the  old  ones.  He  fays,  "  Canfl  help  me 
to  all  Greene's  Books  in  one  volume?  But  I  will 
have  them  every  one,  not  any  wanting."  The  modern 
book-hunter  ftarts  at  the  idea  of  a  volume  containing 
all  Greene's  works  in  the  original  quartos;  even  the 
bookfeller  of  1602  finds  that  he  has  fome  half-a-dozen 
lacking.  Then  the  gentleman  is  urged  to  buy  a  book 
of  Nafh's,  but  he  has  it  already;  at  laft  he  is  per- 
fuaded  to  buy  the  very  poem  to  which  this  conver- 
fation  is  a  preface,  and  we  are  interefled  to  learn 
that  he  pays  fixpence  for  it,  lefs  than  one-thoufandth 
part  of  the  fum  that  would  be  afked  to-day  for  a 
clean  copy.  The  poem  is  in  Rowlands'  ufual  fix- 
line  flanza,  but  it  is  fingular  among  his  works  as 
being  in  a  dramatic  form.     It  is  in  fa6l  a  dialogue 

Samuel  Rowlands. 

between  a  Widow,  a  Wife,  a  Maid,  and  a  Vintner. 
The  Widow  meets  the  Wife,  whom  fhe  has  not  feen 
for  a  long  time,  outfide  a  tavern,  and  while  they  fland 
talking  the  Maid  goes  by.  The  Widow  ftops  her, 
and  vows  that  they  muft  all  three  drink  a  glafs  to- 
gether before  they  part.  The  Wife  and  the  Maid 
obje6l,  but  their  obje61:ions  are  overruled  by  the 
boifterous  joviality  of  the  Widow,  who  drags  them 
into  the  tavern.  They  are  fhown  upftairs  into  a 
private  room,  and  the  Vintner  brings  them  claret. 
Over  their  wine  they  difcufs  old  times  and  their  pre- 
fent  fortunes  in  a  very  humorous  and  natural  way. 
The  Widow  is  a  coarfe,  good-humoured  woman,  full 
of  animal  fpirits,  and  ftill  rebellious  with  the  memory 
of  her  red-haired  hufband,  who  ufed  her  ill;  the 
Wife,  on  the  other  hand,  praifes  her  hufband,  an 
eafy  foul  who  lets  her  have  her  way;  the  Maid  talks 
very  little  at  firft,  but  as  fhe  warms  with  the  wine, 
fhe  defcribes  the  fort  of  hufband  fhe  means  to  have. 
Prefently  they  finifh  the  claret,  and  the  Wife  and  the 
Maid  wifh  to  go,  but  the  Widow  will  not  hear  of  it, 
but  bids  the  Vintner  burn  fome  fack  and  fry  fome 
faufages.  Over  this  feaft  they  linger  a  long  while 
goffiping,  till  the  Maid  has  burning  cheeks,  and  the 
Widow  becomes  indifputably  drunk.  She  talks  fo 
broadly  that  the  Vintner  s  boy  laughs,  and  then  fhe 
becomes  extremely  dignified,  iniifting  on  an  apology. 
In  the  end  fhe  patronifes  the  Vintner,  and  makes 
him  drink  with  them;  and  when  at  lafb  her  friends 
rife  to  go,  fhe  infifts  on  paying  the  whole  reckoning. 

Memoir  on 

It  will  be  feen  that  the  poem  has  no  plot,  and  that 
the  contents  are  very  flight;  but  the  workmanftiip  is 
admirable,  and  the  little  realiftic  touches  combine  to 
form  an  interior  as  warm  and  full  in  colour  as  any 
painted  by  Brouwer  or  Oftade.  It  is  one  of  the  bed 
ftudies  oi genre  we  poffefs  in  all  Elizabethan  litera- 
ture. 'Tis  Merry  when  Gqffips  Meet  went  through 
at  leaft  feven  editions  before  the  end  of  the  century. 
Simultaneoufly  with  this  humorous  poem,  Row- 
lands publifhed,  in  1602,  a  colle6lion  of  profe  ftories 
of  fmart  cheating  and  cofening  under  the  title  of 
Gree7te's  Ghojl  Haunting  Coney  catchers,  adopting  this 
popular  name  to  attra6l  public  notice.  As  a  catcher 
of  rabbits,  or  conies,  trades  upon  the  flupidity  of  his 
victims,  fo  it  was  reprefented  by  the  pamphleteers  of 
the  day  that  knaves  took  advantage  of  the  credulity 
of  fimple  citizens,  and  hence  the  popularity  of  a  title 
that  Greene  had  invented,  but  which  found  a  fcore 
of  imitators.  Rowlands'  tales  are  lively,  but  for  us 
the  main  intereft  of  the  book  centres  in  its  preface 
and  in  its  addrefs  to  the  reader,  in  which  Rowlands 
comes  forward  diftin6lly  as  a  pamphleteer,  difclaiming 
any  pretenfion  to  learning  or  an  ambitious  flyle. 
From  this  time  forth  he  appears  folely  as  a  caterer 
for  the  frivolous  and  cafual  reader,  and  demands 
notice  rather  as  a  journalift  than  as  an  author.  His 
little  books  are  what  we  fhould  now  term  fecial 
articles;  they  anfwer  exadlly  to  the  "middles"  of 
our  beft  weekly  newfpapers.  Our  curiofity  is  ex- 
cited by  the  lapfes  in  his  compofition,  and  we  wonder 

Samuel  Rowlands. 

how  fuch  a  man  fubfifted  in  the  intervals  between 
the  pubHcation  of  his  works.  His  familiarity  with 
the  book-trade,  and  his  cunning  way  of  adapting  his 
titles  and  fubje6ls  to  the  exacl  tafte  of  the  moment, 
fuggeft  that  he  may  have  found  employment  in  one 
of  the  bookfellers'  fhops.  In  this  conne6lion  we 
turn  in  hope  of  confirmation  to  the  imprints  of  his 
volumes,  but  in  vain.  He  publifhed  with  a  great 
variety  of  bookfellers,  and  rarely  more  than  twice 
with  the  fame.  From  1600  to  1605  he  was,  how- 
ever, in  bufmefs  with  William  White,  in  Pope's  Head 
Alley,  near  the  Exchange,  and  for  ten  years  his 
tracts  were  fold  by  George  Loftus,  in  Bifhopfgate 
Street,  near  the  Angel.  As  Loftus  would  feem  to 
have  fucceeded  White,  or  to  have  removed  from  his 
employment  into  a  feparate  bufmefs,  it  is  within  the 
bounds  of  legitimate  fpeculation  to  guefs  that  Row'- 
LANDS  fpent  fifteen  of  his  bufieft  years  in  the  employ- 
ment of  thefe  City  bookfellers. 

In  1604  he  publifhed,  under  the  fenfational  title  of 
Looke  to  it,  or  I'll  Stab  You,  a  frefh  colle6lion  of 
fatirical  characters  in  verfe,  in  form  and  fubftance 
precifely  like  the  epigrams  in  his  Letting  of  Humour  s 
Blood.  His  ftyle  had  by  this  time  reached  its  higheft 
refinement  and  purity,  without  the  flighteft  trace  of 
elevation.  The  chara6ler  of  the  Curious  Divine 
forms  a  good  example  of  his  fluent  and  profaic 
verfe : — 

"  Divines,  that  are  together  by  the  ears, 

Puffed  up,  high-minded,  feedfmen  of  diffention, 

Memoir  on 

Striking  until  Chrifl's  feamlefs  garment  tears, 

Making  the  Scripture  follow  your  invention, 
Negledling  that  whereon  the  foul  fhould  feed, 
Employed  in  that  whereof  fouls  have  no  need. 

Curious  in  things  you  need  not  ftir  about. 

Such  as  concern  not  matter  of  falvation, 
Giving  offence  to  them  that  are  without, 

Upon  whofe  weaknefs  you  fhould  have  compaflion, 
Caufing  the  good  to  grieve,  the  bad  rejoice, 
Yet  you,  with  Martha,  make  the  worfer  choice, 

I'll  flab  you!" 

From  this  time  forward  every  year  faw  one,  at 
leaft,  of  his  facile  produclions.  In  1605  it  was  Hell's 
Broke  Loo/e,  one  of  the  pooreft  things  he  ever  wrote,  hah  • 
a  mean  kind  of  epic  poem  in  his  favourite  fix-line  ^^^  NAofit. 
ftanza,  on  the  life  and  death  of  John  of  Leyden.  In 
the  fame  year  he  returned  to  his  firft  love,  and  pub- 
lifhed  A  Theatre  of  Divine  Recreation,  a  colle6lion 
of  religious  poems,  founded  on  the  Old  Teftament. 
This  book,  which  was  in  exiftence  as  late  as  181 2, 
has  difappeared. 

The  beft  of  all  Rowlands'  works,  from  a  literary 
point  of  view,  is  the  rareft  alfo.  A  Terrible  Battle 
between  Tivie  and  Death  exifts  only  in  a  fmgle  copy, 
which  has  been  bound  in  fuch  a  way  that  the  imprint 
and  date  are  loft.  There  is  little  doubt,  however, 
that  the  latter  was  1606.  The  dedication  is  odd; 
Rowlands  infcribes  his  book  to  a  Mr.  George  Gay- 
wood,  whom  he  does  not  perfonally  know,  but  who 
has  fhown  more  than  fatherly  kindnefs  to  a  friend  of 
the  author's.     We  wonder  if  the  "friend"  may  have 

Samuel  Rowlands. 

been  the  author's  wife,  by  a  concealment  not  un- 
precedented in  that  age,  and  Mr.  Gaywood  her  god- 
father or  patron.  At  any  rate,  fome  fnigular  chain  of 
circumftances  feems  hinted  at  In  this  very  cryptic 
dedication.  The  poem  itfelf  contains  the  beft  things 
that  Rowlands  has  left  behind  him.  It  opens  in  a 
moll  folemn  and  noble  ftrain,  with  a  clofer  echo  of  the 
auguft  mufic  of  the  tragic  Elizabethans  than  Rowlands 
attains  anywhere  elfe. 

"  Dread  potent  Monfter,  mighty  from  thy  birth, 
Giant  of  flrength  againft  all  mortal  power, 
God's  great  Earl  Marfhal  over  all  the  earth, 
Taking  account  of  each  man's  dying  hour. 
Landlord  of  graves  and  tombs  of  marble  flones. 
Lord  Treafurer  of  rotten  dead-men's  bones," 

thus  Time  addreffes  Death,  whom  he  has  met 
wandering  over  the  world  on  his  dread  miffion. 
But  Death  cannot  flay  to  talk  with  him;  he  has  to 
mow  down  proud  kings  and  tender  women,  gluttons 
and  atheifls  and  fwaggering  bullies,  all  who  live 
without  God,  and  take  no  thought  of  the  morrow. 
Yet  Time  beguiles  him  to  ftay  awhile,  fmce,  without 
Time,  Death  has  no  lawful  right  or  power,  and  fo 
they  agree  to  converfe  together  while  half  the  fand 
runs  through  the  hour-glafs  of  Time.  Their  conver- 
fation  deals  with  the  obvious  moralities,  the  frivolity 
of  man,  the  folemnity  of  eternity,  the  various  modes 
in  which  perfons  of  different  cafts  of  chara6ler  meet 
the  advent  of  death.  The  dialogue  is  dignified,  even 
where  it  is  moft  quaint,  and  the  reader  is  reminded 


Memoir  on 

of  the  devotional  poetry  of  a  later  time,  fometimes  of 
Herbert,  more  often  of  Ouarles.  But  Rowlands 
has  not  the  flrength  of  wing  needed  for  thefe  moral 
flights;  his  poem  becomes  tedious  and  then  grotefque. 
At  the  clofe  of  Time's  pleafant  converfation  with 
Death,  they  fall  out,  and  the  latter,  who  prides  him- 
felf  on  his  perfonal  beauty,  is  extremely  difconcerted 
at  the  rudenefs  with  which  Time  compares  his  arm 
and  hand  to  a  gardener's  rake,  and  his  head  to  a  dry 
empty  oil  jar.  After  thefe  amenities  the  reader  pre- 
pares for  that  "  terrible  bloody  battle  "  promifed  on 
the  title-page,  but  he  is  difappointed,  for  the  pair 
make  up  their  quarrel  immediately,  and  proceed  to- 
gether to  their  mortuary  labours. 

The  year  1607  was  one  of  great  literary  activity 
with  Rowlands.  He  publifhed  no  lefs  than  three 
books,  though,  fmgularly  enough,  we  poffefs  the 
firft  edition  of  but  one  of  thefe.  A  work  of  1607, 
of  which  the  firft  edition  has  been  loft,  is  Do6lor 
Merryman,  a  feries  of  bright  fallies  in  verfe,  de- 
fcribing  and  ridiculing  the  popular  affe6tations  or 
"  humours  "  of  the  day.  In  this  book  a  (light  change 
of  tone  is  apparent;  the  fun  becomes  broader,  the 
ftyle  more  liquid,  and  Rowlands  reminds  us  of  a 
writer  the  very  oppofite  of  an  ordinary  Eliza- 
bethan, namely  Peter  Pindar,  and  fometimes  of 
the  younger  Colman.  That  the  fmartnefs  and 
voluble  wit  have  not  entirely  evaporated  yet  ac- 
counts for  the  immenfe  popularity  enjoyed  by  fuch 
a  work  as  this  when  it  was  new;  yet  fuch  writing 


Samuel  Rowlands. 

can  hardly  be  admitted  to  a  place  in  literature.  k-lAB.R.ui>Ap(4 
Another  humorous  volume  of  1607,  Six  London 
Goffips,  has  abfolutely  difappeared,  and  the  only  firft 
edition  of  that  prolific  year  which  we  ftill  poffefs  is 
Diogejies  Lanthorn.  In  1591  Lodge  had  ufed  the 
name  of  Diogenes  for  the  title  of  a  profe  fatire,  and 
Rowlands'  is  but  a  feeble  copy  of  that  quaint  and 
witty  book.  Lodge  brings  out  the  venom  of  Dio- 
genes in  a  dialogue,  Rowlands  makes  him  foliloquife, 
and  after  his  cynical  monologue  in  the  ftreets  of 
Athens,  abruptly  drops  his  hero,  and  clofes  the 
volume  with  a  feries  of  fables,  put  into  eafy  popular 
verfe  with  his  cuftomary  facility. 

In  The  Famotcs  Hijiory  of  Gtty,  Earl  of  Warwick 
he  fhowed  very  plainly  the  limitation  of  his  powers. 
This  poem,  printed  in  1608,  as  if  in  heroic  couplets, 
but  really  in  the  fix-line  ftanza,  was  fpoken  of  by  Mr. 
Utterfon  as  a  travefty,  intended  to  bring  chivalric 
literature  into  ridicule,  but  this  was  entirely  a  miftake. 
Nothing  could  be  more  ferious  than  the  twelve  heavy 
cantos  of  Rowlands'  tedious  romance,  which  feems 
to  have  been  written  in  imitation  or  emulation  of 
Fairfax's  Taffo,  publifhed  a  few  years  earlier. 

The  year  1608  alfo  faw  the  publication  of  Hti- 
niotirs  Looking-Glaffe,  a  colle6lion  precifely  fimilar 
in  chara6ler  to  The  Letting  of  Humour  s  Blood.  As 
before,  we  find  no  fpark  of  poetic  fancy,  but  plenty 
of  rhetorical  fl<:ill,  a  pifturefque  and  dire^l;  ftyle,  and 
much  defcriptive  verve.  The  boaflful  traveller  was 
a  frequent  and  favourite  fubje6l  with  the  poets  of 


Memoir  on 

Elizabeth;  he  was  a  produdl  of  their  fhowy  and 
grandiloquent  age,  and,  while  they  laughed  at  his 
bravado,  they  were  half  inclined  to  like  him  for  his 
impudence.  But  not  one  of  them  has  drawn  his 
portrait  better  than  Rowlands  has  in  Humour  s 
Looking-  Glajfe : — 

''Come,  my  brave  Gallant,  come,  uncafe,  uncafe! 
Ne'er  fliall  oblivion  your  great  adls  deface : 
He  has  been  there  where  never  man  came  yet. 
An  unknown  country,  aye,  I'll  warrant  it; 
Whence  he  could  ballafl  a  good  fliip  in  hold 
With  rubies,  fapphires,  diamonds  and  gold, 
Great  orient  pearls  efleemed  no  more  than  notes, 
Sold  by  the  peck,  as  chandlers  meafure  oats; 
I  marvel,  then,  we  have  no  trade  from  thence? 
'  Oh!  'tis  too  far,  it  will  not  bear  expenfe.' 
"Twere  far,  indeed,  a  good  way  from  our  main. 
If  charges  eat  up  fuch  exceffive  gain. 

I  heard  him  fwear  that  he, — 'twas  in  his  mirth, — 
Had  been  in  all  the  corners  of  the  earth; 
Let  all  his  wonders  be  together  flitched. 
He  threw  the  bar  that  great  Alcides  pitched; 
Yet  he  that  faw  the  Ocean's  farthefl  flrands. 
You  pofe  him  if  you  aflc  where  Dover  Hands." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  quote  a  more  favourable 
example  of  Rowlands'  verfification,  and  there  are 
lines  in  this  paffage  which  Pope  would  not  have 
difdained  to  ufe.  It  might,  indeed,  be  employed  as 
a  good  argument  againft  that  old  herefy,  not  even 
yet  entirely  difcarded,  that  fmoothnefs  of  heroic  verfe 
was  the  invention  of  Waller.     As  a  matter  of  fa6l, 


Samuel  Rowlands. 

this,  as  well  as  all  other  branches  of  the  univerfal  art 
of  poetry,  was  underflood  by  the  great  Elizabethan 
mafters;  and  if  they  did  not  frequently  employ  it, 
it  was  becaufe  they  left  to  fuch  humbler  writers  as 
Rowlands  an  inftrument  incapable  of  thefe  noble 
and  audacious  harmonies  on  which  they  chiefly 
prided  themfelves. 

In  1609,  unlefs  I  am  wrong  in  my  conjecture  that 
the  Whole  Crew  of  Kind  GoJJips  of  that  year  was 
but  a  new  edition  of  the  Six  London  GoJJips  of  1607, 
Rowlands  confined  himfelf  to  the  reprinting  of 
feveral  of  his  tra6ls,  and  to  this  fa6l  we  owe  the 
poffeffion  of  one  or  two  of  the  earlier  books  already 
defcribed.  His  firft  book  of  fatires,  which  had  been 
condemned  to  be  burned  in  1600,  he  now  brought 
out  aneW;  under  the  title  of  The  Knave  oj  Clubs,  and 
as  in  this  later  form  it  contains  nothing  which  could 
reafonably  give  offence,  it  is  to  be  fuppofed  that  the 
peccant  paffages  had  been  expunged.  It  is  not  a 
very  clever  performance,  rather  dull  and  ribald,  and 
inferior  in  vivacity  to  the  Fables  at  the  clofe  of 
Dioge7ies'  Lo.nthor7t. 

The  Whole  Crew  oJ  Kind  GoJJips  is  a  fairly 
diverting  defcription  of  fix  citizens'  wives,  who  meet 
in  council  to  denounce  their  hufbands,  the  latter  pre- 
sently entering  to  addrefs  the  public,  and  turn  the 
tables  on  their  wives.  This  humble  fort  of  Lyfi/lrata 
has  nothing  very  Ariftophanic  about  it;  it  is,  indeed, 
one  of  Rowlands'  failures.    Seldom  has  he  fecured  a 

fubje6l  fo  well  fuited  to  his  genius  for  low  humour, 



Memoir  on 

and  never  has  he  fo  completely  miffed  the  point  of 
the  fituation.  The  writing  fhows  traces  of  rapid  and 
carelefs  compofition,  the  fpeeches  of  the  wives  are 
wanting  in  variety  and  charatler,  and  thofe  of  the 
hufbands  are  dragged  on  without  rhyme  or  reafon, 
unannounced  and  unexplained.  The  language,  how- 
ever, it  muft  be  confeffed,  is  admirably  clear  and 
modern.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  our  poet  had  fallen 
upon  troublous  days,  for  his  worjks  about  this  time 
are  the  merefl  catch-penny  things,  thrown  off  with- 
out care  or  felf-refpedl.  Martin  Mark-all,  his  con- 
tribution to  1610,  is  an  arrant  piece  of  book-making. 
It  profeffes  to  be  an  hiftorical  account  of  the  rife  and 
progrefs  of  roguery  up  to  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII., 
as  ftated  to  the  Bellman  of  London  b}-  the  Beadle  of 
Bridewell.  It  has  this  fpecial  intereft  to  modern 
ftudents,  that  it  contains  a  very  curious  di6lionary  of 
canting  terms,  preceding  by  more  than  half-a-century 
that  In  the  Englijli  Rogue.  Moreover,  buried  in  a 
great  deal  of  trafh,  it  includes  fome  valuable  biogra- 
phical notes  about  famous  highwaymen  and  thieves 
of  the  fixteenth  century.  It  is  entirely  in  profe, 
except  fome  queer  Gipfy  fongs.  The  wrath  of 
Dekker,  it  is  fuppofed,  was  roufed  b)'  a  charge  of 
plagiarifm  brought  againft  fome  author  unknown  in 
this  book,  and  he  attacked  Rowlands  in  his  Lanthorn 
and  Candlelight.  This  ver}-  flight  rencontre  is  the 
only  incident  that  affociates  Rowlands  with  any  of 
his  contemporaries,  and  even  this  might  fairly  be 
difputed  on  the  ground  of  dates. 


Samuel  Rowlands. 

The  fuccefs  of  the  Knave  of  Clubs  induced  Row- 
lands to  repeat  his  venture  with  the  Knave  of  Harts 
in  1612  and  The  Knaves  of  Spades  and  Diamonds  in 
1613.  Thefe  works  are  in  no  way  to  be  diflinguifhed 
from  thofe  that  preceded  them ;  their  author  was  per- 
haps growing  a  little  coarfer,  a  little  heavier,  but  for 
the  reft  there  is  the  fame  low  and  trivial  view  of  life, 
the  fame  eafy  fatire,  the  fame  fluency  and  purity  of 
language.  The  increafmg  heavinefs  of  his  ftyle  is 
flill  more  plainly  feen  in  his  next  work,  A  FooVs 
Bolt  is  foon  Shot,  though  this  is  far  from  being 
the  worfl  of  his  produ6lions.  In  this  volume,  fure 
of  a  large  body  of  readers,  he  difdains  the  artifices 
of  a  dedication,  and  fimply  infcribes  his  poem  "to 
Rafh  Judgment,  Tom  Fool  and  his  fellows."  It 
confifts  of  a  feries  of  tales,  in  heroic  verfe,  con- 
cerning the  practical  blunders  of  all  forts  of  foolifli 
people,  and  thefe  fhories  happen  to  be  particu- 
larly rich  in  thofe  perfonal  details  that  make 
the  works  of  Rowlands  fo  valuable  to  anti- 

By  far  the  beft  written  and  mofl  important  of  his 
late  works  is  the  Melancholy  Knight  of  1615.  The 
title-page  of  this  pamphlet  is  adorned  by  a  moft 
curious  woodcut,  faithfully  rendered  in  facfimile  in 
our  prefent  reprint.  This  reprefents  a  gentleman, 
apparalled  in  the  richeft  gala-drefs  of  that  period, 
with  his  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  his  head 
deeply  funken  in  his  capacious  ruff  of  point-lace. 
His  arms  are  folded  before  him,   and  he  lounges 


Memoir  on 

on,  loft  in  a  melancholy  reverie.      It  is  he  who  is 
fuppofed  to  indite  the  poems.      He  fays: — 

"  I  have  a  melancholy  fkull. 
That's  almoll  fractured  'tis  fo  full ! 
To  eafe  the  fame  thefe  lines  I  write ; 
Tobacco  boy!  a  pipe!  fome  light !" 

His  refle(5lions  upon  the  follies  and  knaveries  of  the 
age,  its  vices,  its  affe6lations,  and  its  impertinencies, 
are  full  of  bright  and  delightful  reading,  but  moft  of 
all  when  it  is  found  that  the  Knight  is  a  book-worm, 
and  fpends  his  time  in  devouring  old  folio  romances 
and  chivalric  tales  "  of  ladies  fair  and  lovely  knights," 
like  any  Don  Quixote ;  and  moft  of  all  when  he  ven- 
tures to  recite  a  very  touching  ballad  of  his  own 
about  Sir  Eglamour  and  the  Dragon,  No  doubt 
the  fame  of  Cervantes'  mafterpiece,  publifhed  juft  ten 
years  before,  had  reached  the  Englifh  pamphleteer, 
and  he  had  certainly  feen  The  Knight  of  the  Burniiig 
Pejile,  performed  in  1611;  Rowlands  was  never 
original,  but  he  was  very  quick  in  adopting  a  new 
idea.  In  fome  of  the  defcriptions  of  oddity  in  the 
Melancholy  Knight  he  fhows  a  greater  richnefs  in 
expreffion  than  in  his  early  works.  He  had  pro- 
bably read  the  fatires  of  Donne. 

The  remaining  works  of  Rowlands  need  not  detain 
us  very  long.  In  16 17  he  publifhed  a  poem  called 
The  Bride,  but  it  is  loft.  In  16 18  he  brought  out 
A  Sacred  Me?nory  of  the  Miracles  of  Chri/i,  remark- 
able only  for  the  preface,  in  which  he  exhorts  "  all 
faithful  Chriflians  "  with  fuch  a  confident  unction  as 

Samuel  Rowlands. 

to  fug-gefl  that  he  may  poffibly  by  this  time  have 
found  a  fphere  for  his  energies  within  the  Church  of 
England.  In  the  poems  themfelves  there  is  nothing 
important;  they  prefent  all  the  features  of  conven- 
tionality and  effete  piety  which  are  to  be  met  with 
in  Englifh  poems  on  facred  narrative  fubje6ls  before 
the  days  of  Ouarles.  With  The  Night  Raven,  in 
1620,  and  Good  News  and  Bad  News,  in  1622,  the 
long  feries  of  Rowlands'  humoriftic  ftudies  clofes. 
Thefe  two  books,  exadlly  like  one  another  in  flyle, 
confift  of  the  ufual  chain  of  ftorles^  lefs  ably  told  than 
before,  but  ftill  occupied,  as  ever,  with  knavery  and 
fimplicity,  the  endlefs  joke,  now  repeated  to  fatiety, 
at  the  eafe  with  which  dulnefs  is  gulled  by  roguery. 
According  to  all  probable  computation,  Rowlands 
by  this  time  was  at  leaft  fifty  years  of  age;  and  after 
producing  this  fort  of  homely  poetry  for  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  he  poffibly  found  that  the  public 
he  once  addreffed  had  abandoned  him.  At  all  events. 
Good  Newes  and  Bad  Neiues  is  the  laft  of  his  comic 

Six  years  later  there  appeared  a  little  duodecimo 
volume  of  facred  verfe  and  profe,  entitled  Heavens 
Glory,  Seek  it;  EartJis  Vanity,  Fly  it;  HelVs  Horror^ 
Fear  it.  Under  this  affe(5led  title  a  writer  who  figns 
himfelf  Samuell  Rowland  iffues  a  colle6lion  of  fuffi- 
ciently  tedious  homilies,  interfperfed  with  divine 
poems.  That  this  book  was  written  by  Samuel 
Rowlands  has  been  freely  affirmed,  and  as  freely 
denied;  but  I  do  not  think  that  any  doubt  on  the 
fubje6l  can  remain  on  the  mind  of  any  one  who  care- 

Memoir  on 

fully  reads  it.  The  profe  pages,  it  is  true,  have  all 
that  dogged  infipidity  and  abfolute  colourleffnefs  of 
ftyle  which  marks  the  minor  theological  literature  of 
the  feventeenth  century,  but  the  poems  are  not  fo 
undecipherable.  They  are  printed  in  a  delufive 
way,  fo  as  to  feem  to  be  in  a  fhort  ballad  metre;  but 
they  are  really,  in  all  cafes,  compofed  in  that  iden- 
tical fix-line  ftanza  which  Rowlands  affedled  through- 
out his  life.  Nor  is  there  more  fimilarity  to  his 
authentic  poems  in  the  form  than  in  the  ftyle  of  thefe 
religious  pieces.  There  is  precifely  the  fame  fluid 
verfification,  the  fame  eafy  and  fenfible  mediocrity, 
and  the  fame  want  of  elevation  and  originality.  At 
the  end  of  the  hortatory  work  there  is  found  a  col- 
ledlion  of  Prayers  for  ufe  in  Godly  Families,  and 
appended  to  thefe  latter  a  colle6lion  of  poems  entitled 
Cofmnon  Calls,  Cries  and  Sounds  of  the  Bellman,  con- 
fifting  of  religious  pofies  and  epigrams,  very  poorly 
written,  but  ftill  diflin6lly  recognifable  as  the  work 
of  Rowlands.  I  do  not  think  there  can  be  the 
flighteft  doubt  that  this  mifcellaneous  volume  is  rightly 
included  among  his  veritable  works. 

From  this  year  (1628)  he  paffes  out  of  our  fight, 
having  kept  the  bookfellers  bufily  engaged  for  exactly 
thirty  years.  His  books  continued  to  find  a  fale  for 
another  half  century,  and  were  reprinted  at  leaft  as 
late  as  1675.  But  they  were  confidered  as  fcarcely 
above  the  rank  of  chap-books,  and  Rowlands  is  in- 
cluded among  the  Englifh  poets  in  not  one  of  the 
lifts  of  contemporary  or  former  authors.  In  1630 
he  wrote  a  few  verfes  of  congratulation  to  his  loving 

Samuel  Rowlands. 

friend  John  Taylor,  the  Water  Poet,  and  in  earHer 
life  he  had  paid  the  fame  compliment  to  two  flill  more 
obfcure  writers.  In  1612,  W.  Parkes,  of  whom  ab- 
folutely  nothing  is  known,  quoted  a  fhort  poem  by 
Rowlands  in  his  Curtain- Drawer  of  the  World. 
Such,  and  fuch  alone,  are  the  minute  points  of  con- 
nection with  his  contemporaries  which  the  moft 
patient  fcholarfhip  has  fucceeded  in  difcovering,  and 
they  fhoAV  a  literary  ifolation  which  would  be 
aftounding  in  fo  fertile  an  author  if  we  were  not  to 
confider  the  undignified  and  ephemeral  nature  of 
Rowlands'  writings,  which  the  paffage  of  time  has 
made  interefting  to  us,  but  which  to  his  cultivated 
contemporaries  muft  have  fcarcely  feemed  to  belong 
to  literature  at  all. 

In  an  age  when  newfpapers  were  unknown  and 
when  poetry  was  flill  the  favourite  channel  for 
popular  thought,  fuch  pamphlets  as  thofe  of  Samuel 
Rowlands  formed  the  chief  intelle6lual  pabulum  of 
the  apprentice  and  of  his  mafter's  wife,  of  the  city 
fhopkeeper  and  of  his  lefs  genteel  cuftomers.  When 
we  confider  the  clafs  addreffed,  and  the  general 
licence  of  thofe  times,  we  fhall  be  rather  inclined  to 
admire  the  reticence  of  the  author  than  to  blame  his 
occafional  coarfenefs.  Rowlands  is  never  immoral, 
he  is  rarely  indecent;  his  attitude  towards  vice  of  all 
forts  is  rather  indifferent,  and  he  affumes  the  judicial 
air  of  a  fatirifl  with  fmall  fuccefs.  He  has  neither 
the  integrity  nor  the  favagery  that  is  required  to 
write  fatire;  he  neither  indulges  in  the  fenfual  rage 
of  Donne,  nor  the  clerical  indignation  of  Hall;  he  is 


Memoir  on  Samuel  Rowlands. 

always  too  much  amufed  at   vice  to  be  thoroughly 
angry  with  it.     His  favourite  fubje6l  of  contemplation 
is  a  fharper;  to  his  effentially  bourgeois  mind  nothing 
feems  fo  irrefiftibly  funny  as  the  trick  by  which  a 
fhrewd  rafcal  becomes  poffeffed  of  the  purfe  or  the 
good  name  of  an  honefl  fool;  and  no  doubt  it  was 
this  that  peculiarly  endeared  his  mufe  to  the  appren- 
tice and  to  the  ferving-maid.     As  a  purely  literary 
figure  he  has  little  importance  fave  what  he  owes  to 
thofe  details  which  were  commonplace  in  his  own 
time,  but  which  are  of  antiquarian  importance  to  us. 
Yet,  however  accidental  the  merit  may  be,  we  can- 
not refufe  to  Rowlands  the  praife  of  having  made 
the  London  of  Shakefpeare  almoft  more  vivid  to  us 
than  any  other  author   has  done.      In    his  earlier 
works,  and  efpeclally  in  his  'Tis  Merry  when  GoJJips 
Meet,   he  has  difplayed   the   exiftence  in  him  of  a 
comic  vein  which  he  negle6led  to  work,  but  which 
would  have  affured  him  a  brilliant  fuccefs  if  he  had 
had  the  happy  thought  of  writing  for  the  ftage.     In 
comedy  thofe   bright   and   facile   qualities    of  ftyle 
which  are  wafted  in  the  frivolous  repetitions  of  his 
later  tales  and  fatires,   might  have  ripened  into  a 
veritable  dramatic  talent.     As  it  is,  he  is  a  kind  of 
fmall  non-political    Defoe,  a   pamphleteer   in  verfe 
whofe  talents  were  never  put  into  exercife  except 
when  their  poffeffor  was  preffed  for   means,  and  a 
poet   of  confiderable   talent  without   one   fpark   or 
orlimmer  of  grenius. 





[By  Sir  Walter  Scott.] 

The  curiofity  of  the  prefent  age  has  been  much 
directed  towards  the  fugitive  pieces  of  the  reigns  of 
EHzabeth  and  James  I.  both  as  illuftrating  obfcure 
paffages  of  Shakfpeare,  and  of  our  earher  dramatifts, 
and  as  containing  an  authentic  record  of  the  private 
Hfe  of  our  forefathers.  The  following  poems  will  be 
found  to  gratify,  in  no  common  degree,  the  curious 
antiquary  who  inveftigates  thefe  fubje6ls;  and  as  the 
original  volume  is  rare,  and  bears  a  high  price  among 
collectors,  it  is  hoped  that  the  prefent  very  limited 
impreffion  may  render  the  knowledge  which  it  con- 
tains acceffible  to  fome  who  have  not  an  opportunity 
to  consult  the  original  edition.^     A  very  few  notes 

1  [To  "  The  Letting  of  Humours  Blood  in  the  Head  Vaine,  &c., 
by  S.  Rowlands.  Edinburgh:  Reprinted  by  James  Ballantyne 
&  Co.  for  William  Laing,  and  William  Blackwood.     1815."] 

2  ["What  an  oddity,  and  non-defcript  compound,  was  that  Samuel 
Rowlands! — and  why  do  I  notice  him  here?  Simply,  becaufe  I 
firmly  believe  that  a  complete  colledtion  of  his  pieces,  low,  queer, 
comical,  and  contradi6lory,  as  they  may  be,  could  not  be  procured 
under  the  fum  of  300  sovereigns.  Judge  for  yourfelf,  candid 
reader.  New  and  clean  Packs  of  Cards  are  ufually  procurable  for 
4s.  6d. :  but  if  you  only  want  the  Knave  of  Clubs — together 
with  the  Kjiave  of  Spades  and  Diamonds  and  Knave  of  Hearts, 
of  Mailer  Rowlands  (poems,  publiflied  by  him  in  1611-1612, 
4to)    you    mufl   pay   ^35    3s.    6d. — according  to   the    text    of 

Bibliographical  Index. 

are  added,  lefs  with  the  purpofe  of  ilkiftrating  the 
epigrams  and  fatires,  than  of  fhewing,  in  fome  degree, 
their  conne<5lion  with  the  literature  and  domeftic  hif- 
tory  of  the  age  in  which  they  were  written.' 

The  fantaflic  title  which  the  author  has  chofen 
ferves  to  explain  the  purpofe  of  his  fatire.  The  pre- 
fent  age  is  diftinguifhed  by  an  uniformity  of  fafhion- 
able  folly.  The  more  ambitious  coxcombs  of  our 
forefathers'  day,  affe6led  to  diftinguifh  themfelves, 
not  only  from  the  fober-minded  public,  and  from  the 
vulgar,  but  from  each  other,  for  which  purpofe  each 
affumed  a  flrain  of  peculiarity,  however  abfurd  and 
fantaflic,  and,  in  the  phrafe  of  heraldry,  bore  his  folly 
with  a  difference.  Thus  every  fafliionable  gallant 
varied  in  mien  and  manner  from  his  companions,  as 
widely  as  all  did  from  fober  demeanour  and  common 
fenfe.  Ben  Jonfon,  who  piqued  himfelf  upon  de- 
lineating with  comic  accuracy,  and  with  fatirical  force, 
the  peculiar  ftrains  of  thought  and  manner  called 
humours,  obferves,  with  fome  indignation,  that  thofe 
who  could  make  no  pretenfion  to  that  original  flrain 
of  thought  and  adtion  to  which  he  would  willingly 

the  priced  catalogue  of  Bindley's  Library!!  And  again?  for 
his  Betrayal  of  Chrijl,  1598,  4to,  ^2\  :  oppofed  to  his  Doilor 
Merric-Mati,  1609,  4to,  ^15.  Thefe  two  prices  are  taken  from 
the  Bibl.  Angl.  Poet,  where,  to  the  Night  Raven,  1634,  4to,  the 
ominous  fum  of  j£'^o  is  attached,  the  pages  of  this  work  are  rich 
in  Rowlandiana;  and  Mr.  Thorpe's  well-fiirnifhed  catalogue, 
p.  127,  prefents  us  with  three  other  pieces  of  the  poet,  for  ;^i4  14s. 
coUecSlively." — Rev.  T.  F.  Dibdin:  The  Library  Companion, 
p.  711,  fecond  edition,  London,  1825.] 

^  [Thefe  Notes  will  be  found  incorporated  in  the  "  Gloffarial 
Index  and  Notes."] 

Bibliographical  Index. 

reftricl;  the  term,  afie6led  fome  diftin6lion  or  pecu- 
liarity in  drefs  or  manner,  in  order  to  eflablifh  their 
title  to  be  called  humourifts  The  real  humour  he 
defines  to  be 

When  fome  peculiar  quality 

Doth  fo  poffefs  a  man,  that  it  doth  draw 
All  his  affe6ls,  his  fpirits,  and  his  powers, 
In  their  conflu6lions,  all  to  run  one  way; 
This  may  be  truly  faid  to  be  a  Humour. 
But  that  a  rook,  by  wearing  a  pyed  feather. 
The  cable  hat-band,  or  the  three-piled  ruff, 
A  }'-ard  of  fhoe-tye,  or  the  S^vitzer's  knot 
On  his  French  garters,  fhould  afife6l  a  Humour  ; 
O,  it  is  more  than  moll  ridiculous ! 

Cor.  He  fpeaks  pure  truth;  now  if  an  idiot 
Have  but  an  apifh  or  fantaflic  flrain. 
It  is  his  Humour. 

Our  poet  has  given  us  numerous  inftances  both  of 
the  real  and  of  the  pfeudo-humourift ;  and  as  he  de- 
fcribed  the  fcenes  in  which  he  lived,  and  the  follies 
which  were  a6led  before  his  eyes,  it  is  interefting  to 
obferve,  that  the  various  affectations  of  the  retainers 
of  Sir  John  Falftaff,  as  well  as  thofe  of  the  Bobadil, 
Stephen,  and  M after  Matthew  of  Jonfon,  and  of  the 
various  comic  chara6lers  pourtrayed  by  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher,  were  not,  as  modern  readers  might 
conceive  them,  the  fantaftic  creatures  of  the  poet's 
imagination,  but  had  in  reality  their  prototypes  upon 
the  great  fcene  of  the  world.  The  author  has  in- 
deed pourtrayed  examples  of  every  fpecies  of  affe6la- 
tion,  from   the   bombaflic  vein  of  Ancient  Piftol  to 

Bibliographical  Index. 

the  melancholy  and  gentleman-like  gravity  of  Mailer 

The  book  was  firft  publifhed  in  1600,  and  met  but 
a  rude  reception;  for  26th  06lober,  1600,  occurs  the 
following  order  upon  the  records  of  Stationers'  Hall : — 
"  Yt  is  orderd,  that  the  next  court-day  two  bookes 
lately  printed,  thone  called  The  Letting  of  Humors 
Blood  in  the  Head  Vayne;  thother,  A  Mery  Mctinge, 
or  'tis  Mery  when  Knaves  mete;  fhal  be  publiquely 
burnt,  for  that  they  conteyne  matters  unfytt  to  be 
publifhed ;  then  to  be  burnd  in  the  hall  kytchen,  with 
other  popifh  bookes  and  thinges  that  were  lately 
taken."  ^  From  the  feverity  of  this  fentence  it  would 
feem  that  the  chara61;ers  drawn  by  the  author  were 
underflood  to  have  reference  to  living  perfons.  Mr. 
Ames,  who  quotes  the  order,  tells  us,  that  feveral 
[twenty-nine,  fee  Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  ii.,  pp. 
832-3]  of  the  trade  were  [March  4,  1 600-1,]  fined  two 
fhillings  and  fixpence  a-piece  for  buying  thefe  ob- 
noxious works;  but  that  it  does  not  appear  whether 
any  penalty  was  impofed  on  the  printer  and  publifher. 
He  fuppofes  the  book  had  been  reprinted  after  the 
deftru61ion  of  the  firft  edition,  which  gave  rife  to  this 
fecond  fentence.  See  Typographical  Antiquities, 
edit.  1786,  vol.  ii,,  p.  1266. 

It  would  feem  that,  in  confequence  of  the  prohibi- 
tion, and  fines  impofed  on  the  trade  who  purchafed 
this  little  volume,  the  title  was  altered;  for  there  are 

^  [No  fuch  entry  appears  under  this  date  in  Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcrtpt.'\ 

Bibliographical  Index. 

two  [three]  editions  under  the  title  of  "Humours  Or- 
dinarie,  where  a  Man  maybe  verie  merie  and  exceeding 
well  ufed  for  Sixpence,"  one  [two]  without  date,  and 
one  in  1607.  But  in  16 11,  William  White  adventured 
to  republifh  the  work  under  its  original  title,  a  few 
years  having  made  fuch  changes  as  removed  the 
original  obje6lions,  or  perhaps  the  licence  of  the 
prefs  having  become  more  extended.  With  the  ad- 
dition of  this  preliminary  advertifement,  and  a  few 
trifling  notes,  the  prefent  edition  is  an  exa6l  fac- 
fimile  of  that  of  16 11. 

The  literary  merit  of  a  rare  work  is  a  poftponed 
obje6l  of  enquiry  to  the  Bibliomaniac;  but  even  in 
this  point  of  view  fomething  may  be  faid  for  the 
credit  of  our  author.  He  anatomifes  in  his  rugged 
numbers  the  follies  of  the  time  in  which  he  lived  with 
a  fatirical  force  not  inferior  to  that  of  Hall  or  Donne, 
and  may  even  boaft  with  old  Ben  himfelf, 

My  flricl  hand 

Was  made  to  feize  on  vice,  and  with  a  gripe 
Squeeze  out  the  humour  of  fuch  fpongy  natures 
As  lick  up  every  idle  vanity.  * 

^["A  prolific  and  very  able  writer  of  fugitive  pieces  during  the 
reign  of  James  I.  He  commenced  authorfhip,  however,  as  it 
here  appears,  while  Elizabeth  was  flill  on  the  throne;  and  in  1598 
his  maiden  effort,  a  volume  of  facred  poems,  entitled  The  Be- 
traying of  Chriji,  Sac,  Y>^^&d  through  two  impreffions." — Warton's 
Hijlory  of  EtigliJJi  Poetry,  edit.  W.  C.  Hazlitt,  187  i,  vol.  iv.,  p.  417. 

"He  [Rowlands]  was,  in  fa6l,more  of  a  humouriflthan  of  a  fatirift, 
and  in  the  latter  department  he  is  not  to  be  compared  with  his  imme- 
diate contemporaries,  Donne,  Hall,  or  Marflon;but  his  epigrams  and 
lighter  performances  are  feldom  without  point,  fpirit,  and  pleafantry, 
and  mofl  of  his  pieces  were  often  reprinted  in  confequence  of  the 

Bibliographical  Index. 

The  author,  Samuel  Rowlands,  was  a  prolific 
pamphleteer  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth,  James  I.  and 
Charles  I.  and  wrote  many  fugitive  pieces, fome  few  re- 
ligious, but  for  the  molt  part  local  and  perfonal  fatires. 
The  induftry  of  Ritfon  (fee  Bibliographia  [Poetica], 
p.  316)  has  muftered  a  numerous  catalogue  of  his 
works,  yet  there  are  feveral  omiffions  which  have 
been  fupplied  by  more  recent  refearch.  Sir  Egerton 
Brydges  has  made  fome  addition  to  the  lift,  in  the 
Cenfura  Literaria,  vol.  ii.,  p.  150.  And  fpecimens  of 
two  curious  fatires,  entitled  "  The  Knave  of  Clubs," 
and  "The  Knave  of  Hearts,"  are  given  in  the  [Britifli] 
Bibliographer,  vol.  ii.,  p.  103.  The  firft  of  thefe  had 
the  fate  of  the  following  work,  being  condemned  to  the 
kitchen  of  the  Stationers'  Company  in  the  year  1 600. 
At  p.  549  of  the  fame  volume,  the  ingenious  and  in 
duftrious  bibliographer  analyzes  briefly  two  other 
treatifes  of  Rowlands,  "  The  Melancholy  Knight," 
namely,  and  a  colle6lion  of  religious  tracts,  entitled 
"  Heaven's  Glory,"  &c. 

Excepting  that  he  lived  and  wrote,  none  of  thefe 
induftrious  antiquaries  have  pointed  out  any  par- 
popular  demand  for  them.  If  they  are  now  and  then  a  little  coarfe 
or  indecorous,  the  blame,  if  any,  belongs  to  the  period  at  which 
they  were  written :  Rowlands  was  not  more  faulty  in  this  refpecl 
than  moil  of  his  jocular  rhyming  rivals." — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier: 
Introdu6lion  to  "Humors  Looking  Glafs,"  1608,  Yel/mu  Series, 
No.  10. 

"  Though  a  rapid  and  carelefs  writer,  he  occafionally  exhibits 
confiderable  vigour,  and  has  often  fatirized  with  fpirit  the  manners 
and  follies  of  his  period.  He  may  be  juflly  claffed  as  furmounting 
mediocrity." — Drake's  Shakcfpcarc  and  his  Times,  181 7,  vol.  i., 
p.  700.] 

Bibliographical  Index. 

ticulars  refpedling  Rowland[s].^  It  has  been  remarked, 
that  his  mufe  is  feldom  found  in  the  beft  company; 
and,  to  have  become  fo  well  acquainted  with  the 
bullies,  drunkards,  gamefters,  and  cheats,  whom  he 
defcribes,  he  muft  have  frequented  the  haunts  of  dif- 
fipation,  in  which  fuch  characters  are  to  be  found. - 

^["  Who  or  what  he  was,  beyond  the  fact  that  he  wrote  no  fewer 
than  about  thirty  fmall  trails  for  his  fubfiflence,  and  that  nearly  all 
of  them  were  extremely  popular,  we  know  not." — Mr.  J.  Payne 
Collier:  Introdudlion  to  "  Good  Newes  and  Bad  Newes,"  YcUohj 
Series,  No.  14. 

"  Suppofed  to  have  died  about  1634,  was  the  author  and  fup- 
pofed  author  of  many  poetical  tra6ls." — Allibone's  Critical 
Di6lionary  of  EngliJJi  Literature,  1S70,  vol.  ii.,  p.  1883.] 

^["The  mufe  of  Rowlands,"  fays  Jofeph  Haflewood,  "  is  feldom 
found  in  good  company.  Her  beft  chara6lers  are  generally  picked 
up  by  the  way  fide  among  the  idle  and  vicious;  fometimes  on 
benches  of  tippling  houfes,  and  too  often  the  precincts  of  Bride- 
well; or  from  the  crowd  that  ufually  waited  upon  a  delinquent 
wearing  '  Tyburne-tiffany.'  Her  only  intereft  is  founded  upon 
locality  of  defcription,  which  may  be  prefumed  a  faithful,  if  not  a 
flattering  copy  of  the  times." — BritiJIi  Bibliographer,  vol.  ii.,  p.  105, 
London,  181 2. 

Thomas  Campbell,  author  of  the  Pleaficres  of  Hope,  quefdons 
the  foregoing  conclufion  of  Haflewood : — "  The  hiflory  of  this 
author  [Rowlands]  is  quite  unknown,  except  that  he  was  a  prolific 
pamphleteer  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth,  James  I.  and  Charles  I. 
Ritfon  has  muflered  a  numerous  catalogue  of  his  works,  to  which 
the  compilers  of  the  Cenfura  Literaria  have  added  fome  articles. 
It  has  been  remarked  by  the  latter,  that  his  mufe  is  generally 
found  in  low  company,  from  which  it  is  inferred  that  he  frequented 
the  haunts  of  diffipation.  The  conclufion  is  unjud — Fielding  was 
not  a  blackguard,  though  he  wrote  the  adventures  of  Jonathan 
Wild.  His  defcriptions  of  contemporary  follies  have  confiderable 
humour.  I  think  he  has  afforded  in  the  following  flory  of  Smug 
the  Smith  [fee  '  The  Night-Raven,'  p.  26]  a  hint  to  Butler  for  his 
apologue  of  vicarious  jullice,   in  the  cafe  of  the  brethren  who 

Bibliographical  Index. 

But  the  humorous  defcriptions  of  low-Hfe  exhibited 
in  his  fatires  are  more  precious  to  antiquaries  than 
more  grave  works,  and  thofe  who  make  the  manners 
of  Shakfpeare's  age  the  fubje6l  of  their  ftudy  may 
better  fpare  a  better  author  than  Samuel  Rowlands. 
The  following  Colle(flion  appears  to  have  been  the 
mofl  popular  of  his  numerous  effufions,  having,  as  has 
been  fhewn,  run  through  four  [five]  editions  between 
1600  and  1 611. 

Abbotsford,      ) 
ijl  April,  1 8  14.  ] 

hanged  a  '  a  poor  weaver  that  was  bed-rid,'  inftead  of  the  cobbler 
who  had  killed  an  Indian, 

'  Not  out  of  malice,  but  mere  zeal, 
Becaufe  he  was  an  Infidel.' 

HUDIBRAS,  Part  IL,  Canto  ii.  1.  420." 

Specimens  of  the  Britt/h  Poets,  }^.  123:  London,  1844.] 

Bibliographical  Index. 

I.  The  Betraying  of  Christ.  Ivdas  in  defpaire.  The 
feuen  Words  of  our  Sauior  on  the  Croffe.  With 
other  Poems  on  the  Pafsion.  LONDON.  Printed  by- 
Adam  Iflip.  1598,  4to,  30  leaves. 

Three  copies  known :  one  in  the  Bodleian  Library  (bought 
in  the  fifth  portion  of  the  Corfer  fale  for  £^  los.) ; 
another  in  the  poffeffion  of  Mr.  S.  Chriftie-Miller,  Britwell, 
Buckinghamfhire;  and  a  third  of  a  different  iffue,  formerly  in 
Heber's  Library.— See  Mr.  W.  C.  Hazlitt's  Handbook, 
1867,  p.  521. 

"  He  [Rowlands],  poffibly,  originally  tried  his  fkill  upon  a  facred 
fubjedl,  'The  Betraying  of  Chrifl,'  but  not  fucceeding,  he  reforted 
to  fatire  and  epigram,  and  put  forth  his  '  Letting  of  Humours 
Blood '  in  1600.  To  this  ftyle  he  adhered,  as  we  apprehend,  with 
one  exception,  for  the  reft  of  his  career,  becaufe  not  only  is 
'■  Heaven's  Glory,  feeke  it;  Earths  Vanitie,  flye  it,'  quite  in  another 
vein,  but  the  author's  name  (a  circumftance  not  hitherto  noticed) 
is  there  printed  Rowland,  and  not  RoAvlands." — Mr.  J.  Payne 
Collier:  Introdu6tion  to  Hvtnors  Looking  Glajje,  1608,  Yellow 
Series,  No.  10. 

"  Neither  Lowndes  nor  any  of  our  bibliographers  have  noticed  the 
fa6l,  that  there  were  two  editions  of  this  work  printed  in  the  fame 
year — the  prefent  one  being  the  firft.  The  copy  of  the  fame  date 
defcribed  in  the  Bibl.  Ang.  Foetica,  598,  differs  very  materially  from 
the  one  now  under  notice  (which  we  believe  to  be  the  firft  edition 
of  this  very  rare  facred  Poem)  in  having  a  dedication  '  To  his  deare 
affedled  Friend  Maifter  H.  W.  Gentleman,'  and  fome  ftanzas  ad- 
dreffed  '  To  the  Gentlemen  Readers,'  and  alfo  a  poem  in  four  line 
verfes  entitled  '  The  highway  to  mount  Calvarie,'  which  are  not  in 

Bibliographical  Index. 

this  edition.  The  title  is  ornamented  with  curious  woodcut  repre- 
fentations  or  emblematic  allufions  to  the  betrayal  of  Chrifl  and  his 
crucifixion,  the  crown  of  thorns,  the  reed,  the  fcourge,  the  cock,  the 
lanthorn  and  fword,  the  nails,  the  crofs,  and  other  implements  of 
torture  and  of  death.  On  the  reverfe  of  the  title  is  a  woodcut  re- 
prefentation  of  the  arms  and  crefl  of  Sir  Nicholas  Walfh,  Knight, 
'  Chiefe  Juflice  of  her  Maieflies  Court  of  Common  Pleas  in  Ireland 
and  of  her  Highneffe  counfaill  there,'  to  whom  the  work  is  dedi- 
cated. This  was  Rowlands'  earliefl  publication,  and,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  one  other  piece,  is  the  only  one  on  a  fubjedl  of  a  facred 
nature.  As  one  of  the  minor  poets  of  his  day,  Rowlands  was  not 
without  merit,  and  on  fome  grounds  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  was 
afterwards  induced  to  turn  his  talents  to  pamphleteering  and  works 
of  a  more  humorous  and  fatirical,  but  lefs  reputable  nature,  pro- 
bably from  finding  them  more  popular  and  more  eafily  faleable- 
but  the  latter  are  fo  extremely  curious  for  the  numerous  allufions 
to  the  manners  and  cuftoms  of  the  times,  that  their  literary 
merit  and  moral  tendency  need  fcarcely  enter  into  confideration. 

It  is  poffible  that  the  religious  poems  of  Robert 

Southwell,  Breton  and  others,  which  had  jufl  then  appeared,  may 
have  fuggefled  to  Rowlands  the  flyle  and  fubje6l  of  thefe  facred 
themes,  which  he  afterwards  abandoned  for  lighter  and  more  pro- 
fane fubjedls,  and  which,  as  far  as  we  know,  were  not  again  re- 
printed by  him." — From  Rev.  Thomas  Corser's  unpublifhed  MS. 
of  ColleBanea  Anglo-Poetica. 

II.  The  Letting  of  Hvmovrs  Blood  in  the  Head- 
VAINE.  With  a  new  Moriffco,  daunced  by  feauen 
Satyres,  vpon  the  bottome  of  Dioglnes  Tubbe.  At 
London,  Printed  by  W.  White  for  W.  F. 

1600,  8vo,  43  leaves. 

Four  copies  of  this  tra6l  are  known :  three  in  the  Bodleian 
Library  (one  in  the  Malone,  one  in  the  Wood,  and  one 
in  the  Crynes  colle6lion),   and  the   fourth   in  the   Britilh 

Bibliographical  Index. 

Mufeum.  Which  of  thefe  firft  appeared  it  would  be  hard  to 
fay.  The  probability  is  that  it  was  the  Wood  and  Malone 
copies,  from  the  fa6l  that  the  line  reading  (B  2,  line  i): — 

"  I  fcorue  to  meete  an  enemie  in  feeelde," 

is  corre6led  in  the  Crynes  copy  to 

"  I  fcorne  to  meete  an  enemie  in  fielde." 

Leaf  A  3  in  the  Malone  copy  is  wanting.  The  one  now  re- 
printed is  the  Wood  copy.  In  the  Crynes  copy  there  are 
lines  "  To  his  very  good  freend  M.  Hvgh  Lee,  Efquire," 
which  are  reprinted  in  the  Mifcellaneous  Poems.  In  the 
"Stationers'  Regifters"  (Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii., 
p.  174)  the  following  entry  occurs: — 

"  16  Oaobris  [i6oo] 

"william  white. — Entred  for  his  Copye  vnder  the  handes  of 
Mafter  Pasfeild  and  the  wardens  A  booke  Called  the 
lettmge  of  Humours  blood  in  the  head  vayne  with  a  newe 
morifco  Daiinced  by  Seven  Satyres  vppon  the  bottome  of 
DioGiNES  tubbe  .         .         .         .         .         .  vj^ " 

In  the  "Stationers'  Regifters"  we  have  this  entry  (Mr* 
Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  832-3): — 

"4'°  marcij  [1601] 

"  Receaued  of  thefe  perfons  folowinge  [twenty-nine  Stationers] 
the  fommes  infuyinge  [two  fhillings  and  fixpence  each]  for 
their  Diforders  in  buyinge  of  the  bookes  of  humours  lettinge 
blood  in  the  vayne  beinge  newe  printed  after  yt  was  firfl  for- 
bydden  and  burnt." 

Bibliographical  Index. 

"When  the  work  was  firft  publifhed  in  1600,  'Printed  by 
W,  White/  it  gave  fuch  offence,  on  account  of  the  feverity  of  its 
fatire,  and  the  obvioufnefs  of  its  allufions,  that  an  order  was 
made  that  it  fhould  be  burned,  firft  'publicly,'  and  afterwards 
in  the  '  Hall-kitchen '  of  the  Stationers'  Company.  The  book- 
feller  therefore  changed  its  title  to  '  Humours  Ordinarie,'  and 
publifhed  an  edition  of  it  without  date;  but,  after  the  feeling 
againfl  the  work  had  fubfided  in  161 1,  it  again  appeared  as  '  The 
Letting  of  Humors  Blood  in  the  Head-vaine,'  although  the 
printer,  as  we  fee,  thought  it  prudent  not  to  put  his  name  at  length 
upon  the  title-page.  The  Epigrams  are  thirty-feven  in  number, 
with  fix  lines  to  introduce  the  '  feven  Satires '  mentioned  on  the 
title-page.  The  temporary  and  perfonal  allufions  are  extremely 
numerous  and  often  curious;  but  fometimes  feigned  Latin  names 
were  employed  to  defignate  private  individuals,  who  feem  otherwife 
to  have  been  pretty  clearly  pointed  out.  Public  characters  are  not 
treated  with  the  fame  referve :  thus  Pope  and  Singer,  the  comic 
adlors,  are  fpoken  of  by  name,  and  as  living  when  the  firfl  edition 
appeared  in  1600;  but,  as  they  were  both  dead  when  that  of  161 1 
came  out,  an  alteration  was  made  according  with  that  circumflance. 
( '  See  Shakefpeare's  Actors,' p.  124  [SAakes.  So^.  1846])  "—Mr.  J. 
Payne  Collier:  Bibliographical  Account,  vol.  ii.,  p.  284. 

Seven  editions  of  this  tra6l,  at  leaft,  under  its  different  titles, 
appeared  between  1600  and  161 3.  The  edition  of  161 1  was 
reprinted  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  at  Edinburgh  in  18 15. 

in.  Tis  Merrie  when  Gofsips  meete.  At  London, 
Printed  by  W.  W.  and  are  to  fold  by  George  Loftus 
at  the  Golden  Ball  in  Popes-head  Alley. 

1602,  4to,  23  leaves. 

Only  one  copy  of  this  firft  edition  of  1602  is  known  to 
exift,  and  is  in  the  library  of  Mr.  S.  Chriftie-Miller.  It  is, 
however,  imperfe6l,  wanting  Sig.  B:  this  latter  has  been 
fupplied  from  the  third  edition  of  1609,  ^^i^  is  diftinguifhed  in 

Bibliographical  Index. 

the  prefent  reprint  by  being  enclofed  within  fquare  brackets. 
It  is  entered  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters "  thus  (Mr. 
Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  216): — 

"15  Septembris  [1602] 
"  William  whyte. — Entred  for  his  Copie  vnder  th[e  hjandes  of 
mafter  Hartwell  and  mafler  waterfon  warden  A  booke 
Called  Tis  merry  when  gofflps  meete        .         .         .       vj^ 

We  have  a  contemporary  reference  to  this  poem  in  the 
"  Diary  of  John  Manningham,  of  the  Middle  Temple,  and 
of  Bradbourne,  Kent,  Barrifber-at-Law,  1602- 1603,"  which 
was  printed  for  the  Camden  Society  (from  the  original  MS. 
in  the  Britifli  Mufeum)  in  1868,  and  edited  by  the  late  Mr. 
John  Bruce.  The  paffage  exactly  fbands  thus,  under  date 
Oftober,  1602  (p.  61): — 

"  Out  of  a  Poeme  called  ^It  is  merry  when  Goffips  meete!     S.  R. 

"  Such  a  one  is  clarret  proofe,  /.  e.  a  good  wine-bibber. 

"  There's  many  deale  vpon  the  fcore  for  wyne. 
When  they  fhould  pay  forgett  the  Vintner's  fyne. 

"  A  man  whofe  beard  feemes  fcard  with  fprites  to  have  bin, 
And  hath  noe  difference  twixt  his  nofe  and  chin, 
But  all  his  hayres  haue  got  the  falling  ficknes, 
Whofe  forefront  lookes  like  jack  an  apes  behind. 

"  A  goffips  round,  thats  every  on  a  cup." 

To  the  initials  "S.  R."  Mr.  Bruce  notes: — "  Thefe  initials, 
inferted  by  a  later  hand,  indicate  '  Samuel  Rowlands,'  the 
author  of  this  very  popular  little  volume.  The  firfl  edition 
bears  the  date  of  1602,  and  had  probably  jufl  been  publifhed 
when  it  attra61:ed  the  attention  of  our  diarift." 



Bibliographical  Index. 

"  A  difcuffion  in  verfe  between  a  Wife,  a  Widow  and  a  Maid 
forms  the  body  of  Rowlands'  '  Tis  merry  when  Goffips  meet : '  it 
is  clever  and  humourous,  but  certainly  not  fo  clever,  though  more 
broad  and  droll,  than  the  debate  between  a  Wife,  a  Widow  and  a 
Maid  by  Sir  John  Davys,  in  'The  Poetical  Rhapfody,'  which 
came  out  in  the  fame  year,  1602,  and  which,  perhaps,  gave  the 
author  of '  Tis  merry  when  Goffips  meet '  the  firfl  hint  for  his  more 
familiar,  and  lefs  refined  produdlion.  The  authorfliip  of  the  laft 
has  been  given  to  three  writers: — i.  Simon  Robfon,  a  clergyman, 
who  began  his  career  as  early  as  1585,  whofe  flyle  is  altogether 
different;  2.  Nicholas  Breton,  whofe  initials  do  not  correfpond 
with  thofe  of,  3.  Samuel  Rowlands,  which  are  attached  to  the 
tra6l,  and  to  whom,  we  feel  confident,  it  belongs.  It  is  very  true 
that  at  leafl  three  of  Breton's  pamphlets  are  mentioned  above  by 
the  Apprentice,  under  the  titles  of  Pafquil's  '  Mad-cap,'  '  Fools- 
cap,' and  '  Melancholy,'  to  fay  nothing  of  '  Moral  Philofophy,'  of 
which,  under  that  name,  as  a  work  by  Breton,  we  know  nothing. 
If  Breton  had  written  '  Tis  merry  when  Goffips  meet,'  he  would 
hardly  have  thus  puffed  his  own  pieces.  On  the  other  hand,  S.  R. 
are  the  initials  of  Samuel  Rowlands;  and  although  he  publiflied 
feveral  humourous  and  fatirical  tra(5ls  relating  to  Knaves,  we  are 
not  aware  of  the  exiflence  of  any  one  called  '  Tis  merry  when 
Knaves  meet,'  or  'Tis  merry  when  Maltmen  meet.'  Befides, 
'Tis  merry  when  Goffips  meet'  is  much  more  in  the  flyle  of 
Rowlands  than  of  Breton ;  fo  that,  on  the  whole,  we  feel  no  diffi- 
culty whatever  in  affigning  the  produdion  to  him.  It  enjoyed 
great  popularity,  went  through  feveral  impreffions,  and  all  but  the 
firR  have  the  name  of  Deane  on  the  title-page,  who  was  the  pub- 
lifher  of  feveral  other  pamphlets  by  Rowlands.  This  circumflance 
in  favour  of  his  authorfhip  feems  never  to  have  been  taken  into 
account.  In  fo  much  general  favour  was  '  Tis  merry  when  Goffips 
meet'  even  in  1625,  that  Ben  Jonfon  mentions  it  in  the  Indu6lion 
to  his  'Staple  of  News:'  'They  fay  its  merry  zvhen  Goffips  meet: 
I  hope  our  Play  will  be  a  merry  one.'  It  had  been  reprinted  in 
1619,  and  to  that  edition  various  fongs  were  added  by  the  author 
to  increafe  its  novelty.     It  may  be  worth  while  to  note  that  the 


Bibliographical  Index. 

impreffion  of  1602  contains  almofl  the  proverbial  words  of  Shake- 
fpeare,  Ttvo  Gent,  of  Verona,  A.  v.  fc.  2 : — 

'  The  old  faying  is, 
Black  men  are  pearls  in  beauteous  ladies'  eyes.'  " 

Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  281-82. 

The  Songs  added  to  the  edition  of  16 19  will  be  found  in- 
cluded with  the  Mifcellaneous  Poems.  It  may  be  worth 
while  to  remark  that  the  very  curious  "  Conference  between 
a  Gentleman  and  a  Prentice"  "  never  afterwards  appeared  in 
print:  the  reafon  for  its  omifTion  being,  probably,  that  in 
1605  the  prevailing  intereft  regarding  the  tra6ls,  even  of 
1602,  had  fomewhat  fubfided:  on  this  very  account  it 
poffeffes  the  more  attra6lion  for  modern  readers."  In  the 
firft  volume  of  the  Shakefpeavc  Society's  Papers  this  "Con- 
ference between  a  Gentleman  and  a  Prentice"  is  reproduced 
as  a  teftimony  to  the  early  rarity  of  the  works  of  Robert 
Greene.  Between  1602  and  1675  feven  editions  of  this  tra6l 
appeared.  The  third  edition  of  1609  was  reprinted  at  the 
Chifwick  Prefs  in  1818. 

IV.    Greenes    Ghost    Havnting    Conie-Catchers. 
Wherein  is  fet  downe, 

The  Arte  of  Humouring. 

The  Arte  of  carrying  Stones. 

Will.  St.  Lift 

la.  Foft.  Law. 

Ned  Bro.  Catch,  and 

Blacke  Robins  Kindneffe. 

with  the  conceits  of  Doctor  Pinch-backe  a  notable  Make- 
fhift.  Ten  times  more  pleafant  then  any  thing  yet 
publijited  of  this  matter.  No7i  ad  iniitandmn,  fed  ad 
euitanduni.     LONDON,  Printed  for  R.  lackfon,  and  I. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

North,  and  are  to  be  fold  in  Fleetftreete,  a  little  aboue 
the  Conduit.  1602,  4to,  26  leaves. 

Black  letter.  Several  copies  known :  one  in  the  poffeffion 
of  Mr.  Henry  Huth,  and  another  in  the  Britifh  Mufeum. 
It  is  entered  as  follows  in  the  "Stationers'  Regifters  "  (Mr. 
Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  216): — 

"3,  Septembris  [1602] 

"  Roger  Jacklon  John  northe. — Entred  for  their  copie  vnder 

the   handes   of  mafler   Pasfeild    and    mafler    Waterfon 

Warden.      A   booke   called    Greenes  goojle  \i.e.  ghofl] 

hauntinge  Conyecatchers        .         .         .         .         .         vj^  ' 

And  again  (vol.  iv.,  p.  149): — 

"  16°  Januarij  1625  [i.e.,  1626] 

"  Francis  Williams. — Affigned  ouer  vnto  him  by  miflris  Jackfon 

wife  of  Roger  Jackfon   Deceafed,  and  by  order  of  a  full 

Court  holden  this  Day,  all  her  eftate  in  the  Copies  here  after 

mencioned  .......         xiiij^ 

[Thirty  feparate  articles  of  which  the  firll  is] 
Greenes  ghojl  ha\i.i\nting  Cun\ji\y  catchers,  j'' 

Under  date  "  29  Junij,  1630,"  this  work,  with  many  others, 
was  affigned  over  by  Francis  Williams  to  Mafter  Harrifon. 
—(Vol.  iv.,  p.  237). 

A  fecond  edition  appeared  in  1626.  The  latter  was  re- 
printed by  Mr.  J.  O.  Halliwell-Phillipps  in  i860  (the  im- 
preffion  limited  to  twenty-fix  copies)  with  the  following 
Preface : — 

•'  This  tract  has  been  attributed,  but  apparently  on  uncertain 
grounds,  to  Samuel  Rowlands.  It  was  firfl,  printed  in  1602,  and 
Lowndes  alfo  records  an  edition  of  the  date  1606,  but  I  can  find  no 
other  notice  of  the  latter.     The  edition  of  1602  is  of  fingular  rarity. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

and  has  not  been  acceffible  to  me.  If  we  may  believe  the  editor, 
S.  il...  'this  little  pamphlet  came  by  chance  to  my  hands,  adding 
fomewhat  of  mine  owne  knowledge,  and  upon  very  credible  in- 
formation ;'  but  flatements  of  this  kind  are  received  with  hefitation 
by  thofe  acquainted  with  the  literature  of  the  period.  That  any 
portion  of  it  was  written  by  Greene  himfelf  may  well  be  queflioned ; 
but  it  may  have  been  intended  as  a  kind  of  fupplement  to  his  firfl 
and  fecond  parts  of  Coneycatching,  originally  printed  in  1591." 

V.  Locke  to  it:  FOR,  He  Stabbe  ye.  Imprinted  at  London 
by  E.  Allde  for  W.  Ferbrand,  and  George  Loftes,  and 
are  to  be  folde  in  Popes-head  Allie. 

1604,  4to,  24  leaves. 

Two  or  three  copies  known :  one  in  the  poffeffion  of  the 
Earl  of  Ellefmere  (the  edges  rough  as  it  was  iffued  from  the 
prefs),  and  another  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  There  were 
two  iffues  flightly  differing.  It  is  entered  in  the  "Stationers' 
Regifters  "'  as  follows  (Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii., 
p.  246):— 

•'  19'^-  Novembris  [1603] 
"  William  fferbrand. — Entered  for  his  Copie  vnder  th[e  hjandes 
of  Mafter  Hartvvell  to  the  Wardens.  A  booke  called  Looke 
to  it  for  lie  Jlabbe  yee  vj"*  " 

"It  is  an  intereiling  piece,  full  of  allufions  to  contemporary 
manners  and  perfons.'"' — Mr.  W.  C.  Hazlitt:  Handbook,  p.  521. 

"  The  author's  name,  as  Avas  moll  common  with  him,  is  not 
to  this  fatirical  and  moral  produdtion,  only  his  well-known  initials 
S.  R.  appended  to  an  introdudlion."' — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier: 
Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  p.  284. 

It  was  "  Reprinted  at  the  Beldornie  Prefs,  by  J.  N.  Lydall 
for  Edwd.  V.   Utterfon,  in  the  year  MDCCCXLI;"   the  im- 


Bibliographical  Index. 

preffion  being  limited  to  fifteen  copies.     Mr.  Utterfon  ap- 
pended the  following  note : — 

"  Samuel  Rowlands,  the  Author  of  this  rare  tra6l,  has  exercifed, 
with  confiderable  truth  and  feme  power,  liis  poetical  lafh  in  the 
cafligation  of  the  reigning  vices  and  follies  of  the  early  part  of  the 
17th.  century, — which  indeed  do  not  appear  to  have  differed  much 
from  thofe  of  the  prefent  day. 

'•  Owing  to  the  return  of  the  Englilh  levies  from  the  United 
Provinces  after  the  truce  was  entered  into  between  Spain, 
and  her  former  fubje6ls,  the  introdudlion  of  the  manners  of 
a  diforderly  Soldiery  into  the  peaceful  Metropolis  mufl  have 
excited  much  diffatisfadlion,  as  well  as  alarm,  amongfl  the 
fober  and  induflrious  Citizens  of  London.  Hence  the  frequent 
threat  of  the  '  Stab  ^  by  the  Bully  and  the  Rogue,  fuggefled  the 
title,  and  it  may  eafily  be  believed,  increafed  the  popularity,  of  a 
Satire  having  fo  llrong,  and  original  a  charadler.  Rowlands  refers 
occafionally  to  contemporary  literature  and  circumflances.  He 
alludes  to  Nafh's  '  Pierce  Pennyleffe,'  and  to  R.  Greene's  '  Quip  for 
an  upflart  Courtier,'  and  mentions  Wolner  the  enormous  Eater. 
His  defcriptions  alfo  of  the  fafliions  of  that  day  in  the  drefs  of 
both  Sexes  are  curious  and  amufmg." 

VI.  Hell's  Broke  Loose.  London  Printed  by  W.  W. 
and  are  to  be  fold  by  G.  Loftits  in  Popes-head  Allie 
neare  the  Exchange.  1605,  4to,  24  leaves. 

Two  copies  are  known:  one  in  the  poffeffion  of  Mr.  Henry 
Huth,  and  the  other  in  Mr.  S.  Chriftie-Miller's  library.  The 
firft  named  copy  was  fold  in  the  fifth  portion  of  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Corfer's  fale  (July,  1870)  for  £\6. 

It  is  thus  entered  in  the   "Stationers'   Regifters"    (Mr. 

Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  281): — 

"  29  Januarij  [1605] 

"  William  white. — Entred  for  his  copy  vnder  the  handes  of  the 

\Vardens.  a  booke  called  Hell  broke  loofe.  or  the  notorious  life 

and  Deferued  Dcathe  of  J^ohn  Levden  A  v  of  able  Rebellious 

traitour  againfl  the  Citie  of  Mutifler  in  Ger?nany.  \\^  " 


Bibliographical  Index. 

"  An  account  of  the  life  of  John  of  Leyden.  It  has  been  faid 
that  it  is  not  by  Rowlands,  but  by  fomebody  who  ufurped  his 
popular  initials.  It  certainly  has  thofe  initials  at  the  foot  of  the 
argument,  and  it  was  publifhed  by  the  flationer  whom  Rowlands 
chiefly  employed." — Mr.  W.  C.  Hazlitt:  Handbook,  p.  522. 

VII.  A  Theatre  of  delightful  Recreation.     London,  Printed 
for  A[rthur]  Johnfon.  1605,  4to. 

In  verfe.  This  piece  is  not  known  now  to  exift. — See 
Mr.  W,  C.  Hazlitt's  Handbook,  p.  522.  It  was  at  one  time 
in  the  poffeffion  of  the  editor  of  Percy's  Reliques,  18 12,  who 
thus  notes  (vol.  iii.,  p.  161) : — 

"■  A  Theatre  of  delightful  Recreation,  Lond.,  printed  for  A. 
Johnfon,  1605,  4to  (/^//^.f  editor).  This  is  a  book  of  poems  on 
fubjedls  chiefly  taken  from  the  Old  Tefl.ament." 

The  title  of  this  tract  is  probably  more  correftly  given  in 
the  following  entry  in  the  "Stationers'  Regiflers"  (Mr. 
Arber's  Traiifcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  303) : — 

"8  octobris  [1605] 

"  Arthur  Johnfon. — Entred  for  his  copie  vnder  th[e  h]andes  of 
Mafler  pasfeild  and  the  Wardens  A  booke  called.  A 
Theatre  of  divine  Recreation  cs^c  v\^ 

VIII.  A  Terrible  Battell  betweene  the  two  confumers  of  the 
whole  World:  Time,  and  DEATH.  By  Saumell  Row- 
lands. Printed  at  London  for  lohn  Deane,  and  are  to 
be  fold  at  his  fhop  at  Temple  barre  vnder 

[1606.']  4to,  22  leaves. 

The  only  copy  known  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

In  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters  "  ( Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript, 
vol.  iii.,  p.  328)  is  the  following  entry: — 

"  16  Septembris  [1606] 
"John  Deane. — Entred  for  his  copie  vnder  the  handes  of  Mailer 
WILSON  and  the  warden  mafler  whyte  A  booke  called  The 
bloodic  battell  behcn'xte  Tvme  and  Dea  thej /  vj^  R  " 

"  We  know  of  no  piece  by  Rowlands  more  fcarce  than  this :  we 
have  only  heard  of  one  copy,  and  the  precife  date  of  that  can  not 
be  afcertained,  as  the  figures  have  been  cut  off  by  the  binder :  there 
is  a  large  woodcut  on  the  title-page,  and  it  occupies  fo  much  fpace 
that  the  imprint,  followed  by  the  date,  is  driven  out  of  its  place. 
We  may  guefs  that  it  came  out  late  in  1602;  but  there  is  nothing 
in  the  contents  of  the  poem  to  fhow  at  what  precife  period  it  was 
written,  beyond  the  mention  of  the  plague  which  began  in  London 
in  the  autumn:  we  are  fure,  therefore,  that  the  tra6t  did  not  appear 
before  that  year,  although  Rowlands  had  commenced  author  in 
1598,  if  he  really  wrote  'The  Betraying  of  Chrifl.'  .  .  .  The 
dedication  prefents  a  novel  point,  for  Rowlands  tells  Mr.  George 
Ga}nvood  that  he  does  not  know  him,  and  does  not  expe6t  any 
reward — '  my  pen  never  was  and  never  fhall  be  mercenary' — but 
that  he  has  infcribed  the  Avork  to  him,  becaufe  Gaywood  had 
been  kind  to  a  friend  of  his.  This  forms  a  fort  of  unprecedented 
claim  to  a  dedication.  .  .  .  There  is  no  great  originality, 
but  a  good  deal  of  clevernefs,  in  the  poem,  and,  as  in  point  of 
date,  fo  in  point  of  fubje6l,  it  may  be  faid  to  hold  a  middle  place 
between  Rowlands'  ferious  and  comic  produdions." — Mr.  J.  Payne 
Collier:  Bihlio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  276-79. 

IX.  Six  London  Goffips.  1607. 

Not  known  now  to  exift.  See  Mr.  W.  C.  Hazlitt's  Hand- 
book, p.  522. 

Bibliographical  Index. 


Athens  I  feeke  for  honeft  men; 
But  I  fhal  finde  the  God  knows  when. 
He  fearch  the  Citie,  where  if  I  can  fee 
One  honed  man;  lie  fhal  goe  with  me. 

London  Printed  for  Thomas  Archer,  and  are  to  be 
folde  at  his  Shop  in  Popes-head  Pallace,  neere  the 
Royall-Exchange.  1607,  4to>  24  leaves. 

Partly  in  Black  Letter,  and  partly  in  Roman.  The  only 
copy  known  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  It  is  thus  entered 
in  the  "Stationers'  Regifters "  (Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript, 
vol.  iii.,  p.  334):— 

"  v^°  Decembris  [1606] 
"  Thomas  Archer. — Entred  for  his  Copie  vnder  the  handes  of 
Mafler   Hartvvell  &   Mafter  ^\vy\.&  Warden  A   Booke 
called  Diogenes  Lanthornc  y]^  R" 

And  again  (vol.  iv.,  p.  164): — 

'•'4°  Augufli  1626 
"Edward  Brewfler  Robert  Birde. — Affigned  ouer  vnto  them  by 
Miflris  Pavier  and  Confent  of  a  full  Court  of  Affiflantes  all 
the  eftate  right  title  and  Interefl  which  Mafler  Thomas 
Pavier  her  late  hufband  had  in  the  Copies  here  after  men- 
cioned  xxviij^/ 

[A  long  tranffer  lifl  follows,  of  which  one  of  the  articles  is] 
"  Diogenes  Lanf/iomc." 

"  It  is  one  of  the  befl  of  the  many  pieces  Samuel  Rowlands  left 
behind  him." — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii., 
p.  294. 

It  Avas  at  one  time  exceedingly  popular,  and  between  1607 
and  1659  it  went  through  no  fewer  than  ten  editions. 

Bibliographical  Index. 

XI.  Hv.MORs  Looking  Glafse.  London.  Imprinted 
by  Ed.  Allde  for  VVilliam  Fere-hxdxvd.  and  are  to  be 
fold  at  his  Shop  in  the  popes-Jiead  Pallace,  right  oner 
<^gainfl:  the  Tauerne-dore.  1608,  4to,  16  leaves. 

Two  copies  known:  one  in  the  Univerfity  Library, 
Edinburgh,  and  the  other  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  There 
is  no  entry  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regiffcers "  licenfing  this 
edition;  but  at  a  later  date  there  is  the  following  (Mr. 
Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  419): — 

'^12  Octobris  [1609] 
"  Thomas  archer. — Affigned  ouer  vnto  him  from  Helen  ffayr- 
brand  Widovve      ....     [two  bookes]     .... 
K.\\i^\xxiCi\)i\tx  CQi^xQ  oi  humours  lookwge  glajjc     .  vj<^ 

whiche  were  william  ftayrbrandes  copies. 
PROVYDEu  that  this  entrance  fhalbe  voyd  yf  any  other  man 
haue  right  to  any  of  thefe  copies." 

"  Only  two,  or  at  moll  three,  copies  of  this  comic  production 
are  extant,  and  little  or  nothing  has  been  faid  of  it  in  any  of  our 
bibliographical  mifcellanies.  It  is  dedicated  by  Samuel  Rowlands, 
in  his  own  name  at  length,  'to  his  verie  loving  Friend  Mailer 
George  Lee,'  and  confifts  of  what  the  author  denominates  Epi- 
grams."— Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  p.  287. 

It  was  reprinted  by  Mr.  Collier  in  his  Yelloiv  Series  of 
"  Mifcellaneous  Tra6ls,"  Temp,  Eliz.  and  Jac.  i.  (No.  10), 
and  in  the  Introdu6lion  he    remarked: — 

"  The  fmall  publication  Ave  have  here  reproduced  is  at  leall  of 
average  merit,  and  it  is  one  of  the  very  rareft  of  its  clafs:  there 
are  but  two,  or,  at  the  utmofl,  three,  extant  copies  of  it.  It  is 
full  of  amufmg  illullrations  of  the  manners  and  opinions  of  the 

Bibliographical  Index. 

XII.  Doctor  Merrie-man:  Or,  Nothing  but  Mirth. 
Written  by  S.  R.  At  London,  Printed  for  lohn 
Deane,  and  are  to  [be]  fold  at  his  Shoppe  at  Temple- 
barre  vnder  the  gate.  1609,  4to,  12  leaves. 

As  no  clue  could  be  got  to  the  firft  edition  of  1607,  the 
prefent  reprint  has  been  made  from  the  fecond  edition  of 
1609,  the  original  of  which  is  in  the  poffeffion  of  Mr.  Henry 
Huth,  and  was  fold  in  the  fifth  portion  of  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Corfer's  fale  in  July,  1870,  for  £21  los.  The  licence  for  the 
firft  edition  is  thus  entered  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regiflers  " 
(Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcripty  \o\.  iii.,  p.  362) : — 

"  24  o(5tobris  [1607] 

"John  Ueane. — Entred  for  his  copie  vnder  th[e  hjandes  of 
Th[e]  Avardens  A  booke  called.  DoSlor  Merry  Man  his 
7nedecmes  agaiiijl  Melancholy  humours  .         .  v]^' 

It  has  been  thus  defcribed : — 

"  This  is  the  firfl  edition  (and  effentially  different  from  thofe 
which  followed  it)  of  an  extremely  popular  work  of  drollery,  and 
no  other  copy  of  fo  early  a  year  is  known.  The  fubfequent 
editions  of  1609,  1618,  1623,  1631,  and  1637,  together  with  one 
reprint,  if  not  more,  without  date,  are  all  called  on  the  title-page 
'  Do6lor  Merry-man,  or  Nothing  but  Mirth.'  They  alfo  omit  five 
pages  of  preliminary,  humorous,  and  fatirical  verfes;  and  the  tale 
which,  in  the  firft  edition,  is  laft  in  the  volume,  is  placed  fecond 
in  the  other  impreffions. 

"  After  the  title  the  author  addreffes  'Honefl  Gentlemen'  in  a  erfe, 
recommending  the  infalUble  prefcriptions  of  three  phyficians.  Dr. 
Diet,  Dr.  Quiet,  and  Dr.  Merryman:  next,  Rowlands  inferts  a 
ftiort  poem,  entitled  'Flatteries  Fawne,'  followed  by  the  ufual 
heading  of  '  Do6lor  Merryman,'  and  a  fatirical  produ(5lion  of  two 


Bibliographical  Index. 

pages.     None  of  thefe  are  in  the  copies  of  1609,  16 18,  &c.  and 
the  lall  may  be  quoted  as  a  fair  faraple  of  the  author's  vein : — 

"  Hypocrifie  was  kind,  and  us'd  me  well 
vSo  long  as  I  had  any  land  to  fell. 
Many  a  '  God  fave  you,  loving  Sir,'  I  had 
'  For  your  good  health  I  am  exceeding  glad. 
What  is  the  caufe  you  are  a  ftranger  growne? 
The  meate  doth  me  no  good  I  eate  alone 
Without  your  company:  pray,  let  me  have  it: 
Of  all  the  kindnefle  in  the  world  I  crave  it. 
When  will  you  ride?     My  gelding's  your.s  to  ufe. 
The  choyfefl  chamber  that  I  have  come  chufe, 
And  lodge  with  me.     Commaund  what  ere  is  mine. 
Shall  we  t\vo  part  without  a  quart  of  wine? 
That  were  a  wonder:  give  it,  fure,  I  will; 
Your  prefence  glads  me,  I  do  wi(h  it  flill." 
This  ufage  I  had  daylie  at  his  hand, 
Till  he  had  got  an  intrefl  in  my  land ; 
And  then  I  try'd  his  welcomes  in  my  \\-ant 
To  be,  '  Sir,  I  affure  you  cojme  is  fcant. 
I  would  do  fomewhat  for  acquaintance  fake, 
If  you  but  fome  fecurity  could  make; 
But,  fure,  to  waft  my  wealth  I  know  not  how 
Were  folly.     What  you  have  bin  is  not  now. 
I  wifli  you  were  the  man  I  knew  you  late: 
Faith,  I  am  foiy  y'are  in  this  eftate. 
You  fhould  have  thought  upon  this  thing  before : 
Patience  is  all;  and  I  can  fay  no  more. 
My  bufmefs  now  doth  haften  nie  away; 
I  would  fain  drink  with  you  but  cannot  flay. 
Urgent  occafions  force  me  take  my  leave. 
I  wifli  you  well,  and  fo  I  pray  conceive.'" 

"  The  body  of  the  tract  confifls  of  a  medley  of  droll  tales  and 
fatirical  obfervations:  few  of  the  flories  are  original,  and  fome  of 
them  have  gone  through  mod  of  the  languages  of  Europe;  as  that 
where  one  man  gave  advice  to  another  how  to  avoid  falling  when 
cUmbing,  by  not  making  more  hafle  down  than  up.  This  forms 
the  point  of  an  epigram  in  French,  Spanifh,  and  ItaUau." — Mr.  J. 
Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Account^  vol.  ii.,  p.  286. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

In  a  "Catalogue  of  books  fold  by  J.  Blare  on  London  Bridge," 
among  others  the  following  is  priced  two-pence : — 

•'  Doclor  Merryman  or  Nothing  but  Mirth.  Being  a  Polie  of 
pleafant  Poems  and  Witty  Jefls.  Fitted  for  the  recreation  and 
paflime  of  youth.  Written  by  S[amuel]  R[owlands].  4to." — Mr. 
J.  Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  p.  241. 

XIII.  A  whole  crew  of  kind  Gofsips,  all  met  to  be  merry. 
LONDON,  Printed  for  lohn  Deane,  and  are  to  be  fold 
at  his  Jlwp  vnder  Temblebarre.         1609,  4to,  18  leaves. 

The  only  known  copy  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library. 
In  the  Academy  for  September  29th,  1877,  Mr.  F.  J.  FUR- 
NIVALL  points  out  a  Shakefpearian  allufion  in  this  tra6l  on 

P-  33:— 

"The  chiefefl  Art  I  haue  I  will  bellow, 
About  a  worke  cald  taming  of  the  Shrow." 

"  For  the  fake  of  diflinclnefs  we  will  briefly  defcribe  the  three 
impreffions  we  have  ufed  [1609,  1613,  and  1663],  noticing  the 
differences  between  them.  At  the  back  of  the  title-page  of  the 
copy  of  1609  is  an  addrefs  'To  the  Maids  of  London,'  figned 
S.  R.,  followed  by— 

'  Their  Husbands  Refolution. 
'  With  patience  we  will  heare  our  owne  difgraces, 
Then  proue  the  lying  hufwiues  to  their  faces  : 
Proceed  good  tailing  Goffips,  do  not  fpare, 
And  Maids  beare  witneffe  what  kind  wiues  thefe  are.' 

On  the  next  page  is  an  addrefs  to  men,  beginning — 

'  My  Maifters  that  are  married  looke  about;' 

And  which  ought  to  end — 

'  And  turne  her  to  her  tale,  which  thus  goes  on.' 

However,  it  does  not  fo  conclude  becaufe,  by  a  grofs  blunder,  the 
fpeech  of  'the  firfl  GolTip'  is  made  part  of  the  addrefs  to  men. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

This  error  only  exifts  in  the  firfl  impreflion  of  1609,  for  in  that  of 
1613  the  fpeech  of  the  firfl  Goflip  (fo  headed)  begins  at  the  lines, — 

'  Kind  Gentlewomen,  though  I  fport  and  jeft, 
I  have  fmall  caufe  to  do  it,  I  proteft. ' 

The  accufations  of  the  fecond,  third,  fourth,  fifth  and  fixth  Goffip 
come   in  regular  fucceffion,  and   after   them   we   have   what   is 

headed — 

'  Sixe  Husbands. 

'  Pray,  Maifters,  give  us  leave  a  while, 
Now  you  have  heard  our  wives : 
Wee'le  overthrow  them,  horfe  and  foote, 
Or  elfe  wee'le  loofe  our  lives.' 

'  Six  honefl  Husbands  give  their  wives  the  lye,'  as  we  are  politely 
told,  in  the  fubfequent  order: — 

'  The  firfl  accufed  by  his  wife  to  bee  miferable. 
The  fecond  charged  by  his  wife  to  croffe  her  in  her  humour. 
The  third  charged  by  his  wife  to  bee  hard  and  cruell. 
The  fourth  complained  on  by  his  wife  to  be  a  common  Gamefler. 
The  fift  complained  on  by  his  wife  to  be  a  common  Drunkard. 
The  fixt  complained  on  by  his  wife  to  be  unconftant  to  her  and  haunt 
Whores. ' 

With  thefe  fpeeches  by  the  Husbands  in  reply  (how  they  overhear 
the  accufations,  and  to  whom  they  addrefs  their  anfwers  does  not 
diflin6lly  appear)  the  tra(5l  in  the  4to  of  1609  terminates." — Mr. 
J.  Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  289-90. 

XIV.  The  Knave  of  Clubbes.  Printed  at  London  for 
W.  Ferebrand,  and  are  to  be  fold  at  his  Jhop  in  Popes- 
head  Pallace.  1609,  4^0,  24  leaves. 

It  was  originally  entered  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters  " 
(Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  171): — 

"2.  Septembris  [1600] 

"  Mafler  Burbye. — Entred   for  his   copye  vnder  the  handes  of 

mailer    vvcars    and    the    Wardens,   A   booke   called   A 

merryemeetinge:  Ort''ysmet\f\y  When  knaues  meete:  Sonnettes 

Compyled  by  the  famous  ffraternities  of  knaucs    .         .     vj^" 


Bibliographical  Index. 

Another  entry  (vol.  iii.,  pp.  420-21)  is  as  follows: — 

"16.  Oaobris  [1609] 
"Mafler  Welby. — Affigned  over  vnto  hym  by  miflres  Burby  in 
full  Court  [&c.  38  books,  of  which  one  is]  33.  yt  is  merry 
whefi  knaites  mete''' 

No  edition  earlier  than  that  of  1609  is  known  to  exift:  a 
copy  is  in  the  poffeffion  of  Mr.  Henry  Huth. 

'•  The  oldeft  exemplar  known  of  his  [Rowlands']  '  Knave  of 
Clubbs/  is  in  1609;  but  it  is  certain  that  it  had  appeared  in  or 
before  1600,  under  the  title  of  'Tis  merry  when  Knaves  meet' 
[fee  '  A  conference  betweene  a  Gentleman  and  a  Prentice '  in 
Rowlands'  *  Tis  Merrie  when  Goflips  meete,'  1602],  becaufe  in 
that  year  a  public  order  was  iffued  for  burning  that  book,  the 
name  of  which  forms  the  fecond  title  to  the  '  Knave  of  Clubbs :' 
being  forbidden  as  '  Tis  merry  when  Knaves  meet,'  Rowlands 
altered  the  title,  and  printed  the  tra(5t  as  the  '  Knave  of  Clubbs.' 
This,  as  far  as  exifling  evidence  goes,  was  in  1609,  and  the  feries 
was  completed  (if  it  can  be  called  complete  without  the  '  Payre  of 
Spy-Knaves,'  to  which  we  would  aflign  the  date  of  16 13  [fee 
below])  by  161 2,  in  which  year  both  the  '  Knave  of  Hearts'  and 
'  Knaves  of  Spades  and  Diamonds '  made  their  appearance. 
However,  each  of  them  was  popular  and  often  reprinted,  and  it  is 
impoffible,  at  this  diflance  of  time,  to  fpeak  with  certainty  as  to 
the  numbers  or  dates  of  editions." — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier: 
Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  p.  297. 

"  The  firfl,  '  The  Knave  of  Clubbs,  Tis  merry  when  Knaves 
meete,'  upon  its  appearance,  in  1600,  gave  fuch  offence,  on 
account  of  the  fe verity  of  its  fatire,  and  the  obvioufnefs  of  its 
allufions,  that  an  order  was  made  that  it  fhould  be  burnt,  firfl 
publicly,  and  afterwards  in  the  Hall  Kitchen  of  the  Stationers' 
Company." — [See  above,  under  "  Letting  of  Humors  Blood 
in  the  Head-vaine,"  1600.] — Dr.  E.  F.  Rimbault:  Introdu6lion  to 
"  The  Four  Knaves :"  a  Series  of  Satirical  Tra6ts  by  Samuel 
Rowlands,  reprinted  for  the  Percy  Society,  1843. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

"  This  appears  to  have  been  the  firft  of  the  three  rare  tradls  of 
Samuel  Rowlands,  publiflied  by  him  under  the  title  of  *■' Knaiies.^^ 

"  It  is  in  fadl,  a  poetical  Jefl  Book,  to  which  any  other  title  would 
have  been  almoU  equally  applicable.  Notwithftanding,  however, 
that  many  of  his  Jokes  are  flale  and  vapid,  we  owe  much  of  our 
knowledge  of  the  morals  and  manners  of  his  times,  to  Rowlands, 
whofe  hints  and  allufions  have  perpetuated  many  little  circum- 
flances  illuflrative  of  the  period  in  which  he  wrote.  Such  is  the 
fa 61  which  is  to  be  gleaned  from  this  volume,  that  Allen  [Edward 
Alleyn]  played  Fauflus  in  Marlowe's  Tragedy;  and  we  alfo  learn 
from  it,  the  coflume  which  he  adopted.  Wolner  the  glutton  is 
alluded  to  here,  as  well  as  in  Rowlands'  Satire  of  '  Looke  to  it  for 
He  Stabbe  ye.' 

"  The  late  Mr.  Heber  purchafed  the  three  tracts  of  *  Knaue  of 
Clubbs,'  '  Knaue  of  Harts,'  and  '  More  Knaues  yet,'  bound  in  one 
volume,  for  ;;^35  3s.,  at  the  fale  of  Mr.  Bindley's  coUedlion." — 
Mr.  E.  V.  Utterson:  Note  to  "The  Knave  of  Clubbs.  Tis 
merry  when  Knaues  meete,"  161 1.  '-Reprinted  at  the  Beldornie 
Prefs,   by  G.    E.   Palmer,    for  Edwd.   V.   Utterfon,   in    the   year 


The  edition  of  1611  was  reprinted  by  Mr.  E.  V.  Utterfon  in 
1 84 1,  and  by  the  Percy  Society  in  1843;  the  impreflion  of 
the  former  being  limited  to  fixteen  copies. 

XV.  Martin  Mark-All,  Beadle  of  Bridewell;  His 
defence   and    Anfwere   to    the   Belman   of   LONDON, 
Difcouering  the  long-concealed  Originall  and  Regiment 
of  Rogues,  when  they  firft  began  to  take  head,  and 
how  they  haue  fucceeded  one  the  other  fucceffiuely 
vnto  the  fixe  and  twentieth  yeare  of  King  Henry  the 
eight,  gathered  out  of  the  Chronicle  of  Crackeropes,  and 
(as  they  terme  it)  the  Legend  of  LossELS.     By  S.  R. 
Oderuiit peccarc  bo7ii  virtutis  amore, 
Oder  tint  peccare  mail  forviidinc  pccnce. 
London  Printed  for  ToJin  Budge  and  Richard  Bonian. 

1 610,  4to,  30  leaves. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

Black  Letter.  Six  copies  are  known  to  exift :  two  in  the 
Britifh  Mufeum ;  one  in  the  Bodleian  Library  (it  is,  how- 
ever, deficient  of  Sheet  B  or  4  leaves);  the  fourth  is  in  the 
poffeffion  of  Mr.  Alexander  Young  of  Glafgow  (a  very  fine 
copy,  formerly  in  the  Corfer  collection,  and  fubfequently 
priced  in  Meffrs.  Ellis  &  White's  Catalogue,  a  few  years  ago, 
£21);  the  fifth,  in  the  Guildhall  Library,  London,  wants  the 
laft  leaf;  and  the  fixth  was  fold  at  the  fale  of  the  Rev.  C.  H. 
Craufurd's  books  on  July  13,  1876. 

The  following  entry  appears  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters  " 
(Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  430): — 

<■'  ^jmo  Martij  [1610] 

"John  Budge.    Rychard  Bonion. — Entred  for  their  Copy  vnder 

th[e  h]andes  of  mafler  John  Willson  and  mailer  Waterfon 

warden  A  booke  called,  'Martyn  Marke  all  his  defence' 

beinge  an  anfwere  to  ''the  bellman  of  London'  vj^/." 

"  Samuel  Rowlands,  in  his  '  Martin  Mark-all  Beadle  of  Bride- 
well,' 1 6 10,  accufes  the  unknown  author  of  the  '  Belman  of  London' 
of  flealing  from  Harman's  book  ['  A  Caueat  or  warening  for 
Common  Curfetors,'  &c.,  1573;  reprinted  by  Benfley  in  18 14,  and 
again  by  the  Early  EngliJJi  Text  Society  in  1869J.  'At  lafl  up 
ftarts  an  old  Cacodemicall  Academicke  with  his  frize  bonnet,  and 
gives  them  al  to  know  that  this  invedlive  was  fet  foorth,  made  and 
printed  above  fortie  yeeres  agoe,  and  being  then  called  a  Caveat 
for  Curfitors  is  now  newly  printed  and  termed  the  Belman  of 
London.'  This  expofure  roufed  the  ire  of  Dekker  in  his  '  Lan- 
thorne  and  Candle-light,'  but  he  made  no  sufficient  reply." — Mr. 
J.  Payne  Collier  :  Biblio.  Account,  vol.  i.,  p.  205. 

"From  an  addrefs  'To  my  owne  Nation,'  it  is  evident  that 
Samuel  Rowlands'  '  Martin  Mark -all  the  Beadle  of  Bridewell,' 
though  dated  1610,  had  been  publifhed  before  'Lanthorne  and 
Candle-light '  [1609].  '  You  fhall  know  him  (fays  Dekker,  fpeaking 
of  a  rival  author  whom  he  calls  'a  Ufurper,')  by  his  habiUments, 


Bibliographical  Index. 

for  (by  the  furniture  he  weares)  hee  will  bee  taken  for  a  Beadle  of 
Bi-idcivell!  No  earlier  impreffion  than  1610  is,  however,  known 
of  Rowlands'  produ6lion." — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Ac- 
count, vol.  i.,  p.  208. 

XVI.  The  Knave  of  Harts.  Haile  Fellow,  well  met. 
London;  Printed  by  T.  S.  and  are  to  be  folde  by 
George  Loftus,  at  his  fhop  vnder  6".  Sep2(lchers-Ch.\iYQ\\. 

1612,  4to,  24  leaves. 

The  only  known  copy  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  It  is 
thus  entered  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regiflers"  (Mr.  Arber's 
Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  484): — 

"Ultimo  ApriHs  [1612] 
"Thomas  Snodham. — Entred  for  his  copy  vnder  th'  [h]andes  of 
mailer  ffrancis  Smithe  and  Th'  wardens,  A  booke  called, 
The  knaue  of  hartes  or  hayle  feltowe  weUvtett     .  vj«*" 

And  again  (vol.  iv.,  p.  152): — 

"23°  ffebruarij  1625  [ie.  1626] 
"  Mafler  Stanfby. — Affigned  ouer  vnto  him  by  vertue  of  a  note 
vnder  the  hand  of  Miflris  Snodham  fliewed  vnto  a  Court 
holden  this  Daye  all  her  eftate  in  the  faid  Copies  following 
viz'-/  xxx* 

[A  long  tranffer  lift,  of  which  one  of  the  articles  is] 
"  T/ie  Knatie  of  Harts r 

•'  In  accordance  with  a  promife  given  at  the  end  of  '  The  Knave 
of  Clubbs,'  Rowlands  went  on  with  his  feries  of  Knaves,  and  in 
1 6 1 2  gave  to  the  world  '  The  Knave  of  Harts,  Haile  Fellowe, 
well  met.'  That  this  was  the  fecond  of  the  feries,  we  have  fufficient 
evidence  in  the  following  lines  from  the  addrefs  of  '  The  Knave  of 
Harts  to  his  three  Brethren  Knaves:' — 

'  The  Knave  of  Clubs  hath  fiift  begunne, 
And  I  am  7text,  now  he  hath  done. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

His  tale  of  Knaves  hath  thrice  beene  tolde, 
And  he  is  printed,  bought,  and  folde, 
Which  made  me  hafte  againe  to  preffe. 
Left  Dimond  fhould  my  place  poffeffe. ' 

The  expreffion  in  the  third  line,  that  the  Knave  of  Clubs  hath 
thrice  told  his  tale,  alludes  to  the  tra<5l  having  paffed  through  three 
editions;  viz.,  the  firfl  in  1600,  the  fecond  in  1609,  and  that  from 
which  our  reprint  is  made,  in  161 1." — Dr.  E.  F.  Rimbault:  Intro- 
du6lion  to  "The  Four  Knaves,"  Percy  Society,  1843. 

"  This  was  one  of  a  numerous  family  of  fatirical  works  written 
by  Samuel  Rowlands,  an  author  whofe  poetical  powers  were  not 
equal  to  his  caullic  humour  and  biting  cenfure.  He  appears  to 
have  vifited  the  haunts  of  profligacy  and  vice  in  fearch  of  fubjedls 
for  his  farcaflic  Mufe,  and  the  refult  of  fuch  enquiries,  communi- 
cated in  his  various  pieces,  is  produdlive  of  amufement  as  well  as 
inflru6lion  to  modern  readers.  The  follies  and  vices  of  his  day 
were  painted  with  a  coarfe  but  vigorous  pencil;  his  fketches  were 
the  iffue  of  flrong  and  accurate  obfervation;  and  our  knowledge 
of  the  domeflic  ufages,  the  opinions,  and  ever-varying  fafliions  of 
the  times  of  Elizabeth  and  the  firfl  James  is  confequently  much 
enlarged  from  the  fources  which  Rowlands  has  opened  to  our  view. 

"  All  his  produ6lions  are  now  become  very  rare,  although  moft 
of  them  went  through  repeated  editions.  AmongH  other  works, 
moflly  chara6lerifed  by  quaint  titles,  he  publifhed  three  feveral 
volumes  of  '  Knaves,'  viz. — '  The  Knave  of  Harts,'  '  The  Knave 
of  Clubs,'  and  'More  Knaves  Yet'  Ritfon  in  the  lift  which  he 
has  given  of  Rowlands'  publications  (a  lift  fomewhat  increafed  by 
later  enquiry)  has  noticed  only  one  of  this  feries,  the  '  Knave  of 
Clubs ' ;  ftronger  evidence  probably  of  the  rarity  of  the  works  fo 
omitted,  than  of  the  inaccuracy  of  that  faftidious  critic. 

"  There  are  copies  of  the  three  feveral  volumes  of  '  Knaves' 
in  the  Malone  CoUedlion  in  the  Bodleian  Library;  in  the  Britifh 
Mufeum  are  the  Knaves  of  Harts  and  Clubs;  and  the  three 
works  bound  together  were  in  Mr.  Heber's  colledlion,  having 
been  purchafed  by  him  at  Mr.  Bindley's  fale. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

"  The  late  Sir  Walter  Scott  gave  to  the  world,  in  the  year  1814, 
a  very  limited  edition  of  one  of  Rowlands'  fatirical  effufions, 
entitled  '  The  letting  of  Humor's  Blood  in  the  head-vaine,  &c., 
London,  161 1,'  to  which  an  advertifement  was  prefixed,  from 
which  the  following  paffage  is  extracted :  '  The  humorous  defcrip- 
tions  of  loiu  life  exhibited  in  his  fatires  are  more  precious  to  Anti- 
quaries than  more  grave  works,  a?id  thofe  who  make  the  manners  of 
Shakefpeare's  age  ihefubjeB  of  their  flu  dy  may  better  f pare  a  better 
author  than  Samuel  Rowlands' 

"  Of  Rowlands  himfelf,  little  or  nothing  beyond  what  appears 
occafionally  in  his  works,  has  been  hitherto  difcovered  by  modern 
biographers." — Mr.  E.  V.  Utterson:  Note  to  "  Knave  of  Harts," 
1613.  "Reprinted  at  the  Beldornie  Prefs,  by  George  Butler,  for 
Edwd.  V,  Utterfon,  in  the  year  mdcccxl." 

The  fecond  edition  of  161 3  was  reprinted  by  Mr.  E.  V. 
Utterfon  in  1840  (the  impreffion  limited  to  fifteen  copies), 
and  by  the  Percy  Society  in  1843. 

XVII.  More  Knaues  yet.^  The  Knaues  of  Spades  and 
Diamonds.  LONDON  Printed  for  lolm  Tap,  dwelling 
at  Saint  Magnus.  [161 3.'']  4to,  22  leaves. 

The  only  known  copy  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library. 
It  is  entered  as  follows  in  the  "Stationers'  Regifters" 
(Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  534): — 

"27  Odlobris  16 13 
"  John  Tapp. — Entred  for  his  Coppie  vnder  the  handes  of  mafler 
John   Taverner  and  the  wardens  a  booke   called    The 
knaues  of  Diamondes  and fpadcs.  .         .         .  v']'^" 

And  again  (vol.  iv.,  pp.  258-9  and  312): — 

"  i^  Augufli  1631. 

"  Jofeph  Hurlocke. — Affigned  ouer  vnto  him  by  Elizabeth  Tapp 

late  the  wife  of  John  Tapp  deceafed  and  by  order  of  a  full 

Court  all  that  her  Eftate  right  title  and  interefl  in  the 

Coppies  hereafter  mencioned  vij^ 

[fourteen  books,  of  which  14]  The  Knaues  of  Diamonds  and  Spades. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

'•  1 6  Januarij  1633.  [/.c.  1634] 
"George  Hurlocke. — Affigned    ouer  vnto   him   [&c.    fourteen 
books  of  which  the  fourteenth  is]  The  Knaves  of  Di'amojids 
and  Spades.^' 

"  The  lall  of  the  feries  of  Rowlands'  Knaves  was  '  More  Knaves 
yet?  The  Knaves  of  Spades  and  Diamonds.'  It  was  printed 
without  date;  but  in  all  probability  (from  allufions  to  Ward  and 
Danfikar,  tAvo  famous  pirates,  whofe  flory  was  then  popular)  about 
the  fame  period  as  the  preceding  tra6l." — Dr.  E.  F.  Rlmbault: 
Introdu6tion  to  "The  Four  Knaves,"  Pe?ry  Society,  1843. 

"This  is  the  third  of  S.  Rowlands'  poetical  tradls,  pubhflied 
under  the  quaint  title  of  '  Knaues  &c.'  and  of  which  the  original 
is  at  lead  equally  fcarce  with  his  other  volumes.  As  has  before 
been  remarked,  his  object  feems  generally  to  have  been,  to  invite 
the  public  notice  by  the  Angularity  of  his  title,  which  frequently 
has  little  or  no  connexion  with  the  work  itfelf  Such  is  the  cafe 
with  the  prefent  volume,  which  poffeffes  little  poetical  merit,  but 
occafionally  illuflrates  the  morals  and  manners  of  the  author's 
Age." — Mr.  E.  V.  Utterson:  Note  to  "More  Knaues  Yet?  The 
Knaues  of  Spades  and  Diamonds."  "  Reprinted  at  the  Bel- 
dornie  Prefs,  by  G.  E.  Palmer,  for  Edwd.  V,  Utterfon,  in  the  year 


Reprinted  by  Mr.  E.  V.  Utterfon  in  1841  (the  impreffion 
limited  to  fixteen  copies),  and  by  the  Percy  Society  in 

XVIII.  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  or  The  Poyfoned  Knights 
Complaint.     Imprmted  at  London  for  John  White. 


A  broadfide,  of  which  the  only  known  copy  is  in  the 
Colleftion  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries,  London.  It  will  be 
found  printed  with  the  Mifcellaneous  Poems. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

XIX.  A  FOOLES  Bolt  is  foone  fhott.  Imprinted  at  London 
for  George  Loft  us,  and  are  to  be  fold  at  the  figne  of 
the  White  Horfe  at  the  Steps  of  the  North  doore  of 
P miles.  1 6 14,  4to,  20  leaves. 

The  only  known  copy  is  in  the  Capel  Colle6lion,  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge. 

It  is  thus  entered  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters "  (Mr. 
Arber's  Traufcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  545): — 

"quarto  Maij  16 14 
"  Andrew.  Manfell. — Entred  for  his  Coppie   vnder  the  handes 
of  mafler  Tavernour  and  mafler  ffeild  warden  a  booke 
called  A  fooles  holt  is  foone  Jliot  vj^ " 

XX.  THE  Melancholie  Knight.  By  S.  R.  H  Imprinted  at 
London  by  R.  B.  and  are  to  be  fold  by  George  Loft  us, 
in  Bifhops-gate  ftreete,  neerc  the  Angell. 

161 5,  4to,  22  leaves. 

The  only  known  copy  is  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  It  is 
thus  entered  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters  "  (Mr.  Arber'S 
Trajifcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  558): — 

"2°  Decembris  1614 

"John  Beale. — Entred  for  his  Coppie  vnder  the  handes  of 
mafler  Taverxour  and  mailer  warden  Adames  a  booke 
called  The  Malencholy  knight  by  Samuell  Rowlands     vjd  " 

"  S.  Rowlands  in  his  various  fatirical  pieces  feems  generally 
anxious  to  claim  the  public  attention  by  an  attra6live  title.  Hence 
'The  Melancholy  Knight'  at  the  head  of  this  litde  effufion. 
'  Your  true  melancholy  breeds  your  perfe(ft  fine  wit,  Sir,'  fays 
Mafler  Matthew  in  Ben  Jonfon's  admirable  comedy  of  Every 
Man  in  his  Humour,  which  according  to  Whalley,  was  'a  fneer 


Bibliographical  Index. 

upon  the  fantaflic  behaviour  of  the  Gallants  hi  that  day,  who 
afifecfled  to  appear  melancholy,  and  abflradled  from  common 

"  Few  minor  poets  of  the  period  in  which  he  wrote  poffeffed  a 
more  fluent  vein,  as  adapted  to  the  nature  of  his  fubje6l,  than  our 
author;  fatire  was  his  objedl,  and  he  follows  the  chafe,  fometimes 
attacking  general  vices,  fometimes  purfuing  individual  follies, 
with  confiderable  fuccefs,  in  a  llrain  of  forcible,  though  rough 
humour.  Many  of  his  allufions  are  curious  and  amufing;  and 
fome  of  his  ideas  appear  to  have  furnifhed  hints  to  modern  writers 
(the  firfl  five  or  fix  lines  at  page  4  [p.  10],  appear  to  have  been 
concentrated  by  Goldfmith,  in  that  beautiful  paffage, 

*  Creation's  heir,  the  world,  the  world  is  mine.') 

His  occafional  attempts  at  wit  are  not  without  point,  and  his 
references  to  old  ballads,  and  parodies  on  Tales  of  Chivalry,  then 
rapidly  falling  into  negle6l  and  ridicule,  attell  his  acquaintance 
with  that  once  fafcinating  fludy.  This  probably  fuggefled  his 
Traveflie  of  the  romance  of  Guy,  Earl  of  ^^^arwick,  which  went 
through  feveral  editions  in  the  17th  century. 

"The  prefent  work  is  extremely  rare,  and  is  not  one  of  thofe 
enumerated  in  Ritfon's  lifl  of  Rowlands'  pieces." — Mr.  E.  V.  Utter- 
son  :  Note  to  -'The  Melanchohe  Knight"  "Reprinted  at  the 
Beldornie  Prefs,  by  George  Butler,  for  Edwd.  V.  Utterfon,  in  the 
year  mdcccxli." 

"  The  ludicroufly  extravagant  vein  in  which  the  writers  of  the 
old  romances  were  burlefqued  in  an  anonymous  book  called  The 
Heroicall  Adventures  of  the  Knight  of  the  Sea,  1600,  4to  (before 
Cervantes  had  pubhfhed  his  great  work),  by  Rowlands  in  his  ballad 
of  Sir  Eglamore,  inferted  in  The  Melanchohe  Knight,  1615,  4to; 
and  again,  by  Samuel  Holland  in  his  Don  Lara  Del  Fogo,  1656. 
But  Chaucer's  Rime  of  Sir  Thopas  is  the  firfl  thing  of  this  kind.'' 
— Warton's  Hifl.  of  EngliJJi  Poetry,  edit.  W.  C.  Hazlitt,  1871, 
vol.  iii.,  p.  360. 


Bibliographical  Index. 

The  impreffion  of  Mr.  Utterfon's  reprint  was  limited  to 
fixteen  copies. 

XXI.  The  Bride.  [1617?] 

Nothing  is  known  of  this  piece  but  what  is  to  be  found  in 
the  following  entry  from  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters  "  (Mr. 
Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  609) : — 

"  22"  Maij  1617 
"  Mafler  Pauier. — Entred  for  his  Copie  vnder  the  handes  of 
mafler  Tauernor  and  both  the  wardens,  A  Poeme  intituled 
The  Bride,  written  by  Samuell  Rowlande  vj^-" 

XXII.  A  Sacred  Memorie  of  THE  MIRACLES 
wrought  by  our  Lord  and  Sauiour  lefus  CJiriJi.  Written 
by  Sa^nuel  Rozvlands.  lOHN.  10:  If  you  belecue  not 
Mee,  beleeue  the  works  that  I  doe.  LONDON,  Im- 
printed by  Bernard  Alfop,  and  are  to  be  fold  at  his 
houfe  by  Saint  Annes  Church  neere  Alderfgate. 

16 1 8,  4to,  26  leaves. 

Four  copies  known:  one  in  the  poffefTion  of  Mr.  Henry 
Huth;  another  in  the  library  of  Mr.  S.  Chriftie-Miller;  the 
third  in  the  Bodleian  Library;  and  the  fourth  in  the 
Britifh  Mufeum. 

It  is  entered  in  the  "Stationers'  Regifters"  (Mr.  Arber's 
Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  624)  as  follows: — 

"  16^  Aprilis  1618: 

"  Bernard  Alfope. — Entred  for  his  Copie  vnder  the  handes  of 

Mafler  San  ford  and  Mafler  Swinhow  warden,  A  Booke 

Called  A  Sacred  memory  of  the  miracles  7vrought  by  our  Lord 

and fauiour  Jesus  Christ  .         .         .         .         vj''" 


Bibliographical  Index. 

XXIII.  The  Night-Raven.    By  S.  R. 

All  thofe  whofe  deeeds  doejhjin  the  Light, 
Are  my  companions  in  the  Night. 
LONDON,  Printed  by   G:  Eld  for  lohn  Deane  and 
Thomas  Baily.  1620,  4to,  18  leaves. 

Two  perfe6l  copies  known :  one  in  the  poffeffion  of  the  Earl 
of  Ellefmere,  and  the  other  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  It  is 
thus  entered  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters "  (Mr.  Arber's 
Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  657): — 

"  18°  Septembris  16 19 

"  Thomas  Bayley   John  Deane. — Entred  for  their  copie  vnder 

the  handes  of  Mafler  Dodlor  Goade,  and  Mafler  Jaggard 

warden   A   booke    Called,    The  Night  rauen    made    by 

S.  R[0WLANDS]. vj^" 

"  The  author  calls  this  tradl  '  The  Night  Raven/  becaufe  he 
profeffes  to  difclofe  fcenes,  and  to  defcribe  charadters,  chiefly 
obferved  in  London  after  dark — 

'  Thofe  evil  adlions  that  avoyde  the  Sunne 
And  by  the  light  of  day  are  never  done  ' — 

but  he  does  not  keep  flri6lly  to  his  purpofe.  It  was  popular,  and, 
having  been  firfl  publiflied,  as  far  as  we  know,  in  1618,  it  was 
reprinted  in  1620,  and  1634,  each  time  with  a  woodcut  of  a  raven 
on  the  title-page.  The  prefent  is,  therefore,  the  fecond  edition. 
[See  entry  from  "  Stationers'  Regifters  "  already  quoted.]  Some 
of  the  humorous  pieces  of  which  it  is  compofed  muft  have 
been  written  long  before  they  were  publifhed,  as  Avhere  the  author 
makes  a  young  '  Night  Swaggerer '  fay : — 

'  Then  third  degree  of  Gentleman  I  clayme 
Is  my  profeffion  of  a  Souldiers  name. 
Looke  but  your  Chronicle  for  eighty  eight, 
And  turn  to  Tilbury  you  have  me  ftraight.' 

Referring  of  courfe  to  the  camp  at  Tilbury  in  1588,  which  was 
thirty  years  before  the  tradl  was  firft  printed.     On  the  other  hand, 


Bibliographical  Index. 

foine  poems  are  of  confiderably  later  date,  as  Mrs.  Turner's  yellow 
flarch  is  fpoken  of  in  one  of  them.  Others  are  mere  jefls,  and 
one  or  two  of  them,  fuch  as  '  The  Tragedy  of  Smug  the  Smith,' 
from  the  Italian :  on  fign.  D4b,  Chaucer  furniflies  a  fliort  produc- 
tion  The  tra6l  feems  to  have  been  haflily 

got  up  and  publiflied,  to  fupply  fome  temporaiy  neceflity  on  the 
part  of  the  writer.'' — INIr.  J.  Payne  Collier  :  Biblio.  Account, 
vol.  ii.,,  p.  ::94. 

"  The  Night-Raven  "  was  "  Reprinted  at  the  Beldornie 
Prefs,  by  G.  E.  Palmer,  for  Edwd.  V.  Utterfon,  in  the  year 
MDCCCXLI."  Mr.  Utterfon  appended  to  his  reprint  (limited 
to  fixteen  copies)  the  following  note: — 

"  This  is  one  of  Samuel  Rowlands'  produdlions,  which,  in  fpite 
of  occafional  indelicacy  of  language,  and  coarfenefs  of  allufion, 
poffeffes  fome  claims  on  our  attention  from  its  illullration  of  con- 
temporary manners,  and  reference  to  ancient  literature. 

"  Ritfon  mentions  it  in  his  lift  of  Rowlands'  produ(5lions  in  the 
Bibliographica  Poetica,  but  fpeaks  only  of  the  edition  of  1618. 
Common  enough  as  fuch  a  work  probably  once  was,  it  is  now 
become  very  rare.'' 

XXIV.  A  Payre  of  Spy-Knaves,         [1620!"]  4to,  12  leaves. 

Only  known  to  exifl  in  a  unique  fragment,  in  the 
poffeffion  of  Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier,  F.S.A.  The  following- 
entry  is  from  the  "Stationers'  Regifters"  (Mr.  Arber's 
T7-anfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  660): — 

"6^  Decembris  161 9 
"Phillip   Birch. — Entred  for  his  copie  vnder   the   handes   of 
]\iafter  Tauernor,  and  Mafter  Jaggard  warden  A  booke 
Called  A  Payre  of  Spy  knanes  written  by  Samuell  Row- 
lands        .         .         .  .         .         .         .         vj^  ' 


Bibliographical  Index. 

In  a  fubfequent  entry  (vol.  iv.,  p.  91)  this  piece  is  errone- 
oufly  affigned  to  Samuel  Rowley: — 

"  7°  ffebruarij  [1623] 
"Roberte   Birde. — Affigned  ouer  vnto  him  by   Phillip   Birch 
with  the  Confent  of  Mafter  Pavier  warden  theis  two  Copies 

following xijd 

vizf.  Kfennon  called  Diues  and  Lazarus,  by  R.  F. 
A  Paire  of  Spy  knaues.     by  Samuel  Rowley 

'•'  This  is  the  fequel  to  Rowlands'  '  Knave  of  Clubs,'  '  Knave  of 
Hearts,'  and  'Knaves  of  Spades  and  Diamonds:'  unfortunately  it 
is  only  a  fragment,  beginning  with  an  addrefs  'To  the  World's 
BHnde  Judgement'  on  fign.  A  3,  and  ending  with  an  'Epigram' 
on  fign.  D  3, — in  the  whole  12  leaves.  No  other  copy,  perfe6t 
or  imperfe6l,  has  ever  been  heard  of,  the  initials  of  the  writer, 
Samuel  Rowlands,  (who  in  the  fame  way  claimed  the  authorfhip 
of  the  refl  of  the  hiaviJJi  pieces)  being  at  the  end  of  the  .  .  . 
lines  to  the  Reader.  ...  On  the  whole  the  '  Payre  of  Spy- 
knaves  '  (fuch  is  the  running  title,  in  default  of  a  title-page)  may 
be  held  fuperior  to  any  of  the  other  three  produdlions  by  the 
fame  author  under  correfponding  names.  We  apprehend  that  it 
was  the  lafl  of  the  feries,  but  the  prolific  author,  far  from  having 
run  himfelf  dry,  is  here  even  pleafanter,  more  lively,  more  fatirical, 
and  even  more  informing,  as  to  manners  and  opinions  in  his  day, 
than  in  his  earlier  performances.  .  .  .  Some  of  the  poems  are 
a  little  coarfe  but  highly  humorous,  particularly  one  entitled  'As 
wife  as  John  of  Goteham's  Calfe;  or  This  fellow  brought  his 
Hogges  to  a  faire  Market.'  Not  a  few  of  the  titles  are  droll  and 
defcriptive,  as  '  Courteous  complements  betweene  a  Traveller  and  a 
Hangman,'  'A  Roaring  Boyes  Defcription,'  'A  Marriage  Mer- 
chant,' &c.  Several  of  them  are  in  flo\ving  pleafant  rhyme,  as  for 
inflance: — 

'  The  boording  of  the  Alehoufe  Ship,  fought  fo 
Till  Smug,  the  Smith,  could  neither  ftand  nor  goe. ' 


Bibliographical  Index. 

'  Inftin<5lions  given  to  a  Countiey  Clowne 
To  take  Tobacco  when  he  comes  to  Towne.' 

'  Such  Oafl  fuch  ghefl,  the  Proverbe  fayes : 
111  Servants  chufe  bad  Mafters  wayes.' 

Our  copy  of  this  curiofity  feems  to  have  been  refcued  (poflibly 
from  the  flames)  in  fheets,  which  are  uncut  and  only  three  in 
number." — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  pp. 

XXV.  Good  Newes  and  Bad  Newes.  By  5.  R. 
London,  Printed  for  Henry  Bell,  and  are  to  be  fold  at 
his  Shop  within  the  Hofpitall  gate  in  Smith-field. 

1622,  4to,  23  leaves. 

Three  copies  known :  two  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  and 
the  third  in  the  poffeffion  of  the  Earl  of  Ellefmere. 

"  This  is  little  more  that  a  jefl-book  in  verfe,  and  it  is  one  of 
the  rarefl  of  Rowlands'  later  pieces,  who  acknowledges  it  by  his 
initials  on  the  title-page,  and  at  the  end  of  an  addrefs  of  fixteen 
lines  '  to  the  Reader.'  On  the  title-page  is  a  woodcut  of  a  Lon- 
doner and  a  countryman  (from  Robert  Greene's  tradl)  in  con- 

verfation The  words  '  Good  Newes '  and  •  Bad  Newes ' 

are  placed  at  the  heads  of  different  pages,  without  much  application 
to  the  flory  related;  and  this  is  carried  through  feventeen  leaves, 
when  we  arrive  at  nine  pages  of  Epigrams,  as  they  are  called, 
rather  for  variety  of  appellation  than  for  any  marked  difference  in 
the  flyle  or  fubje6ls.  The  enumeration  of  the  fights  of  London  in 
1622,  which  Hodge  comes  to  town  to  vifit,  is  amufmg." — Mr.  J. 
Payne  Collier:  Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  295-296. 

"  Although  S.  Rowlands  appears  to  have  commenced  his  poetical 
labours  in  a  ferious  flrain,  the  bent  of  his  inclination  led  him,  more 
efpecially  in  his  later  years,  to  fubjecSls  of  merriment  and  fatire. 
Such  is  the  work  which  is  here  reprinted,  one  of  his  numerous 
rhyming  jefl.  Books,  all  of  which  are  now  become  very  rare.     Rit- 


Bibliographical  Index. 

fon  includes  '  Good  newes  and  bad  newes '  in  his  enumeration  of 
S.  Rowlands'  productions. 

"  The  wood-cut  in  the  title-page  of  the  original  work,  is  the  fame 
as  that  ufed  in  Greene's  '  Quip  for  an  upflart  Courtier  or  a  quaint 
difpute  between  Velvet  breeches  and  Cloth  breeches.  Printed  for 
G.  P.   1620.'"— Mr.  E.  V.  Utterson. 

"  Good  Newes  and  Bad  Newes  "  was  "  Reprinted  at  the 
Beldornie  Prefs,  by  G.  E.  Palmer,  for  Edwd.  V,  Utterfon,  in 
the  year  MDCCCXLI."  (the  impreffion  limited  to  fixteen 
copies);  and  by  Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier  in  his  Yellow  Series 
of  Mifcellaneous  Tra6ls,  Temp.  Eliz.  &  Jac.  I.  (the  impref- 
fion limited  to  fifty  copies). 

XXVI.  Heavens  Glory,  Seeke  It.  Earts  Vanitie, 
Flye  It.  Hells  Horror,  Fere  It.  LONDON', 
printed  for  MicJiaell  Sparke.  A" . 

1628,  fm.  8vo,  141  leaves. 

Two  copies  known :  one  in  Dulwich  College,  London,  and 
the  other  in  the  Bodleian  Library.  The  latter  copy  is, 
however,  deficient  of  the  folding  plate  facing  p.  133.  The 
following  entry  appears  in  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters  "  (Mr. 
Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iv.,  p.  192): — 

10  Januarij  1627  \i.e.  1628]. 
"  Michael  Sparkes. — Affigned  ouer  vnto  him  by  Adam  Iflip  All 
the  eflate  right  title  and  Interefl  which  he  hath  in  the 
Copie  hereafter  mencioned  viz  Heavens  glorye  feeke  it, 
Earthes  vanity e  flye  it.  Hells  horror  feare  it  by  Samuell 
Rowland[s]  /  /  vjd  " 

06tavius  Gilchrift,  referring  to  the  third  edition  of  1639, 
remarks  as  follows: — 

"  This  is  the  fecond  of  two  titles,  either  of  which  might  have 
alone  ferved  the  purpofe  of  a  fign  at  the  door;  the  former  is  how- 


Bibliographical  Index. 

ever  too  elaborate  to  be  overlooked,  it  being  very  neatly  engraved 
(the  artifl's  name  needleflly  concealed)  and  divided  into  various 
compartments;  the  fides  graphically  defcribing  the  effects  and 
confequences  of  intemperance,  gluttony,  and  other  vices.  At  the 
top  is  the  eye  of  Heaven  encircled  by  the  Sun  and  Moon,  and 
angels  founding  trumpets ;  at  the  bottom  is  depided  the  mouth  of 
Hell  pouring  forth  its  winged  and  fable  inhabitants,  Avheeling  amid 

'  In  many  an  airy  gyre. ' 

In  the  upper  part  of  the  centre  are  two  figures,  the  one  holding  a 
coronet,  the  other  a  burning  heart,  both  fupporting  a  fcroll,  on 
which  is  infcribed 

'  Heaven's  glory,  feek  it. 
Earth's  vanity,  fly  it. 
Hell's  Horror,  fere  it.' 

'•'Below  thefe  is  a  very  neat  reprefentation  of  a  Square  illumined 
by  the  Moon,  in  which  is  feen  The  Bell-man,  accompanied  by  his 
dog,  with  his  lanthorn  in  one  hand,  ringing  a  bell  vnth.  the  other, 
having  his  Bill,  a  fort  of  Pole-axe,  the  ufual  companion  of  watch- 
men in  the  elder  James's  reign,  hanging  over  his  fhoulder. 

"  Of  the  author  of  this  '  niofl  excellent  Treatife,'^  it  may  juflly  be 
regarded  as  extraordinary,  that  no  account  is  difcoverable  (at  leafl: 
as  far  as  my  refearches  have  extended);  and  though  his  pamphlets 
almoll  rival  in  number  thofe  of  Greene  and  Prynne  their  pre- 
faces, thofe  fruitful  fources  of  information,  throw  no  light  upon 
the  life  or  circumllances  of  the  author.  From  the  prefent  and 
other  of  his  volumes  that  I  have  read,  (and  thofe  not  a  few)  I 
judge  he  was  an  Ecclefiaflic  by  profeflion;  and,  inferring  his  zeal 
in  the  pulpit  from  his  labours  through  the  prefs,  it  Ihould  feem 
that  he  was  an  adlive  fervant  of  the  church. 2     The  prefent  volume 

^  [So  called  in  the  title-page  of  the  third  edition.] 

-  ["The  opinions  of  both  thefe  writers  (06lavius  Gilchrifl  and  Sir  Walter 
Scott)  are  entitled  to  fome  refpecft,  but  they  certainly  looked  upon  two  very 
different  fides  of  the  queflion.  Gilchrift's  conjecture  that  he  (Rowlands)  was  an 
ecclefiaflic  is  quite  untenable,  and  I  am  fully  inclined  to  agree  with  Sir  Walter 


Bibliographical  Index. 

which  is  a  mixture  of  bad  poetry  and  better  profe  is  (as  the  titles 
indicate)  divided  into  three  parts,  each  part  being  fubdivided  into 
fedlions.  The  profe  of  Samuel  Roiulands  mufl  not  be  compared 
with  that  of  the  great  ecclefiaflics  his  contemporaries,  with  that  of 
Hooker,  and  Hammond,  and  Taylor,  and  many  others;  there  is  how- 
ever, a  warmth  and  fervour  in  it  which,  while  it  proves  the  fmcerity 
of  his  feelings,  fometimes  rifes  to  one  of  the  lower  degrees  of 

"  '  The  common  calls,  cries,  and  founds,  of  the  Bell-man,'  with 
which  this  little  volume  concludes,  fuffice  to  prove  that  there  has 
been  no  change  in  the  quahty  of  that  venerable  perfon's  verfes 
from  the  reign  of  Charles  the  firfl  down  to  that  of  George  the 
third.  Shreds  of  morality  put  into  verfe,  fcraps  of  fermons  done 
into  rhyme." — See  John  Y'sm's  Bibliographical  Memoranda,  Briflol,. 
1816,  4to,  pp.  256,  257,  258. 

"  In  1628  Samuel  Rowland  (who,  we  apprehend,  is  not  to  be 
confounded  Avith  the  popular  comic  poet,  Samuel  Rowlands) 
printed  a  pious  produdlion  called  '  Heavens  Glory,  feeke  it,'  &c., 
at  the  end  of  which  he  inferted,  ^vith  a  new  title-page,  '  The 
Common  Cryes  and  Sounds  of  the  Bell-man,'  which  only  relate  to 
what  we  now  term  '  Bell-mans  Verfes :'  they  are  all  of  a  ferious 
and  religious  charadler." — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier  {Biblio.  Account, 
vol.  i.,  p.  165). 

"  The  compilers  of  the  two  editions  of  Lowndes'  Bibl.  Man.  have 
not  perceived  that  'Time  well  improved,'  &c.,  1657,  was  fub- 
flantially  the  fame  work,  firft,  publifhed  in  1628,  under  the  title  of 
■  Heavens  Glory,  feeke  it,'  &c." — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier  {Biblio. 
Account  vol.  ii.,  p.  279). 

"  All  [Rowlands'  produdlions]  were  ludicrous  or  fatirical,  unlefs 
we  except  the  firfl  and  the  lafl — '  The  Betraying  of  Chrifl,'  1598, 

Scott,  that  Rowlands'  company  was  not  of  the  moft  fekci  order,  and  that  he 
mull  often  have  frequented  thofe  'haunts  of  diffipation'  which  he  fo  well  defcribes 
in  thofe  works  which  are  the  hioivii  produ6lions  of  his  mufe." — Dr.  E.  F. 
RiMBAULT  {Notes  and  Queries,  Firft  Series,  vol.  ii.,  p.  420).] 


Bibliographical  Index. 

and  'Heavens  Glory,  feeke  it,'  1628:  poffibly  (as  we  formerly 
remarked)  they  were  not  by  him,  and  the  fecond  profeffes  to  be 
by  Samuel  Rowland,  and  not  Rowlands.  In  our  index  to  the 
'  Bibl.  Account,'  &c.,  ii.,  585,  the  miftake  is  made  of  mif-fpelling 
the  name  of  Samuel  Rowlands;  and  it  is  flill  more  likely  that  it 
fhould  have  been  committed  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 
The  two  works  above  fpecified  are  unlike  anything  elfe  Samuel 
Rowlands  left  behind  him,  and  they  were  printed  and  publiflied  by 
perfons  whofe  names,  we  think,  do  not  appear  on  his  other  title- 
pages." — Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier  (Introdudlion  to  "  Good  Newes 
and  Bad  Newes,"  1622,  Yelloiu  Series,  No.  14). 

XXVII.  The  Famous  Hiltory  of  GvY  Earle  of  Warwicke. 
By  Samvel  Rowlands.  LONDON,  Printed  for 
Edivavd  Bi'ewjier  at  the  Sign  of  the  Crane  in  St.  Pauls 
Churchyard.  1682,  4to,  44  leaves. 

The  copy  of  this  work  from  which  the  reprodu6lion  was 
taken  is  in  the  Britifli  Mufeum.  It  bears  the  date  1607,  and 
was  confequently  fuppofed  to  be  the  firft  edition;  but  after 
the  reprint  was  finiflied  the  title-page  was  found  to  be  an 
admirably  executed  facfimilc.  Further  inveftigation,  after 
the  qucftion  was  once  raifed,  proved  the  edition  to  be  really 
that  of  1682,  publiflied  by  Edward  Brewfter.  Though  thus 
a  comparatively  late  edition,  none  earlier  than  that  of  1649 
in  the  Bodleian  could  be  found  (the  edition  of  1632  in  the 
Britifh  Mufeum  is  in  fuch  a  mutilated  ftate  as  to  be  of  little 
value  in  this  way) ;  and  as  a  collation  fliowed  no  effential 
differences  between  the  two,  it  was  thought  well  to  retain 
the  reprint  already  made,  fubftituting  its  real  title-page  for 
the  fpurious  one,  and  giving  the  Dedication  and  Argument 
found  in  the  edition  of  1649. 

The  following  entry  from  the  "  Stationers'  Regifters " 
gives  the  date  of  the  original  appearance  of  this  work 
(Mr.  Arber's  Tranfcript,  vol.  iii.,  p.  382) : — 


Bibliographical  Index. 

"23.  Junij  [1608]. 
"  William,  ffeerbrand. — Entred  for  his  copie  vnder  th[e  h]andes 
of  mafler  James  Speight  and  Th[e]  wardens  A  book  called 
thefamotts  hijlory  of  Guy  E\d\rle  of  Warwick  vj^" 

"This  romance  ....  originally  appeared  in  1607 — at 
leaft  no  earlier  edition  of  it  is  known,  although  an  impreffion  b)' 
Edward  Allde,  without  date,  may  poffibly  have  preceded  it.  It 
was  frequently  reprinted  down  to  as  late  a  date  as  1682,  and  it 
was   fo  popular,  and  fo  many  copies  of  it  were  deflroyed  by 

frequent  reading,   that  all  are  of  rare  occurrence 

In  his  addrefs,  Rowlands  has  thefe  lines,  very  applicable  to  the 
literature  of  the  time  when  the  romance  firfl  appeared : — 

'  Mojl Jlrange  in  this  fame  Poct-plenty-age: 
When  Epigrams  and  Satyrs  biting,  rage : 
Where  Paper  is  employed  every  day, 
To  carry  Verfe  about  the  Toivnforpay, 
That  Stories JJioidd  intomUd  with  Worthies  lie. 
And  Fame,  through  Age  extin^,  ohfcurely  die.'' 

Epigrams  and  fatires  were  the  fafhionable  mode  of  writing  from 
about  1595  to  16 15,  and  Rowlands  himfelf,  as  we  have  already 
fhown,  had  given  fpecimens  of  his  talents  in  both." — Mr.  J.  Payne 
Collier  {Biblio.  Account,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  298-99). 

After  referring  to  the  early  romances  of  "  Guy  Earl  of 
Warwick,"  Mr.  Corfer,  in  defcribing  the  1667  edition  of 
Rowlands'  verfion,  goes  on  to  fay: — 

"  Of  the  prefent  verfion  by  Rovvland[s],  which  varies  in  feme 
degree  from  the  older  copies,  the  firfl.  edition  in  1607,  4to,  and 
was  followed  by  others,  viz.,  by  Edward  Allde,  4to,  without  date, 
in  1654,  1667,  1679,  ^"^^  1682,  and  probably  more  frequently  fl.ill 
— all  of  them,  from  the  great  popularity  of  the  work,  are  now  of 
confiderable  rarity,  and  generally  bring  high  prices.  The  title- 
page  is  chiefly  filled  with  a  large  woodcut,  reprefenting  the  hero 
Sir  Guy  on  horfeback  in  full  armour,  Avith  a  large  plume  of  feathers 
on  his  helmet,  and  another  on  his  horfe's  head,  holding  a  boar's 
head  on  his  fpear,  and  a  lion  walking  tamely  by  his  fide.     There 


Bibliographical  Index. 

are  alfo  fix  other  woodcuts  in  the  volume,  of  coarfe  defign  and 
execution,  illuflrative  of  the  principal  events  of  the  narrative.  It 
has  a  profe  dedication  to  Philip  Earl  of  Montgomery,  Lord 
Herbert  of  Sherland,  followed  by  a  poetical  addrefs  "  To  the 
Noble  Englifli  Nation/'  another  of  three  flanzas  "To  the 
Honourable  Ladies  of  England,"  and  "  The  Argument "  of  the 

poem The  poem  is  compofed  in  fix-line  flanzas, 

and  is  divided  into  twelve  cantos,  each  of  them  preceded  by  a 
heading  of  four  lines.  Like  nioft  of  the  other  works  of  the  fame 
Author,  it  betrays  flrong  marks  of  hafle  and  careleffnefs,  which  is 
apparent  in  many  parts,  and  efpecially  in  the  fecond  encounter  of 
Guy  with  Colbrond  the  Giant  in  the  twelfth  canto,  whom  he  had 
already  flain  in  the  fixth,  and  had  fent  his  head  to  the  Emperor. 
But  although  betokening  evident  figns  of  hafle,  fome  of  the  de- 
fcriptions  are  \vritten  with  confiderable  force  and  fkill,  as  witnefs 
the  fpirited  account  of  Guy's  rencontre  with  the  Dragon.  .  .  . 
The  eleventh  canto,  commencing  with  a  defcription  of  Guy's 
"painful  pilgrim  life,"  contains  fome  fine  thoughts  expreffed  in 

adequate  language In  this  curious  epifode  the  reader 

will  fcarcely  fail  to  have  brought  to  his  remembrance  the  famous 
fpeeches  in  Hamlet,  in  which  the  melancholy  Prince  of  Denmark 
apoflrophizes  a  fkull  in  a  manner,  and  even  in  words  to  which 
fome  of  the  prefent  lines  bear  a  flriking  fimilarity.  That  Shakef 
peare  was  indebted,  in  any  refpe(5l  to  Rowland[s]  for  the  flightefl 
hint  of  the  fpeeches  referred  to  is  highly  improbable,  even  although 
we  were  to  fuppofe  that  the  poem  of  the  '  Hiflory  of  Guy  of  War- 
wick '  was  written  and  circulated  in  manufcript  for  fome  years  pre- 
vious to  its  publication  in  1607,  nor  is  it  neceffary  to  prefume  that 
Rowland[s]  derived  his  ideas  from  the  work  of  the  more  diflin- 
guifhed  poet.  Refle(5lions  of  this  kind  are  common  to  all  languages 
and  to  all  literatures ;  and  there  is  much  in  the  above  flanzas  which 
may  have  been  derived  from  the  longer  verfions  of  the  old  and  well- 
known  Englifh  tranflation  of  the  '  Dialogue  between  the  Body  and 
the  Soul,'  or  from  fome  other  fources  of  a  like  charadler." — Rev. 
Thomas  Corser  :  unpublifhed  MS.  of  Collc5la7iea  A?iglo-Poetica. 

XXVIII.  Mifcellaneous  Poems.  4to,  12  leaves. 


^>.l■k■.'-ukW,-.-A^^^.vJ.^,.^-'-.-',^^^S^!^       ^        Kl/,.:.'t/<WU/lfr'fmrfMMK{/!K/l2SZSL.      \m     .  vpif »»»,/»""■'  ».i..M,iiiyrn^ 




I  V  D  A  S  in  defpaire. 

The  feuen  Words  of  our 
Sauior  on  the  Croffe. 

Other  Poems  ofi  the  Pafsion. 


Printed  by  Adam  Iflip. 


TO     THE     RIGHT     W  O  R- 

fhipfull,  Sir  Nicholas  WalJJi  Knight,  cheefe 

luftice  of  her  Maiefties  court  of  common  pleas  in 
Ireland,  and  of  her  Highnejfc  counfaile  there. 

Lbeit  (right  Worjfhipfull)  that 
the  art  of  Poefie  is  in  fort  dealt 
withall,  as  Cactis  once  vfed 
Herctdes  oxen,  when  he  drew 
them  backewards  vp  the  hill : 
being  cuftomarily  in  thefe  daies  wrefted  and 
turned  to  the  fooleries  of  Loue,  and  fuch  like 
bafe  fubie6l  of  fancies  abortiue  births,  cornier- 
ting  Poetries  imploiment  to  follies  vfe,  and 
wit  ill  fpent  runnes  violent  that  way,  with  the 
current  of  errour.  Yet  hath  it  a  natiue  diuine 
off-fpring  and  iffue,  wherof  partaking  kindly, 
floates  with  a  calme  tempered  gale  from  all 

Aiij  mif- 

mifcarying  wracke,  to  the  harbour  of  a  quiet 
applaufe.  The-vpright  and  beft  approoued 
cenfure  I  prefume  gains  your  Worfhips  ver- 
tuous  allowance,  to  whofe  wifdome  and  gra- 
uitie  alfociate  with  an  heroicall  fprite,  I  dedi- 
cate affe61;ions  teftimony  by  thefe  vnpolifhed 
lines,  craning  your  fauourable  fault-fhadow- 
ing  view,  if  in  the  manner  any  thing  appeare 
defe6tiue,  trufting  that  as  a  fruitfull  tree  the 
more  it  is  fruitladen,  the  more  it  declineth,  fo 
your  plenteous  accoplifhed  vertues  wil  hum- 
ble them  in  daining  to  accept  the  loue  I  reue- 
rence  you  withall :  wifhing  your  Wor- 
fhip  Worlds  profperitie,  and  H ca- 
ucus happineffe. 

Yo7irs  in  the  beji  endeuoitrs  of  affe^lion. 

S.  R. 

Ven  when  no  beauties  of  the  garnifht  skie 
Had  left  the  view  of  Heauen-makers  wonder, 
And  Phebus  fteeds  were  gallop'd  pofting  by 
Their  hafty  fpeed  had  got  the  worlds  half  vn- 
Yea  eu'ry  creature  that  had  life  or  fprite,         (der, 
Mourn'd  at  the  darke  approch  of  vgly  night: 

An  hofl  of  fwarteft  fable  foggie  clouds, 
Wrapt  in  faire  Qinthia  from  her  filuer  fhine, 
Mantling  her  brightneffe  with  their  obfcure  fhrouds 
As  though  heav'ns  lampe  were  come  to  lateft  fine. 
Her  cannapie  of  flarres  was  eke  vnfeene, 
Whereon  fhe  wonted  mount,  imperious  Queene. 

The  airy  winged  people  gone  to  reft. 
Had  clear'd  with  day,  not  left  a  note  vnpaid, 
All  other  creatures  that  might  be  expreft. 
In  caues  and  holes  for  nights  repofe  were  laid, 
Of  wild,  or  tame,  none  raung'd  or  ran  aftray. 
But  rauenous,  by  darke  that  hunt  for  pray. 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Thicke  miftie  vapours  were  difperfed  foule, 

Prohibiting  day-followers  to  be  feene, 

Difpenfing  only  with  the  fliriking  Owle, 

And  eies  that  Nature  put  lights  hate  betweene, 
Such  as  were  baniflit  from  the  face  of  day, 
To  lurke  the  couert  fhameleffe  night  away. 

Then  child  of  vtter  darkneffe,  lights  offence, 

Intituled:  The  lo^  fo7me  of  perdition, 

Hired  againfl  his  Lord  for  thirty  pence 

To  be  a  traitor  vnder  hels  commifsion, 

In  this  nights  time,  did  rebell  troupes  increafe 
To  manage  armes  againfl  the  Prince  of  peace. 

Toward  Cedron  brooke  th'accurfed  leader  goes, 
With  horfe  and  foot,  weapon'd  with  launce  and  fpeare, 
His  bleffed  maifter  vs'd  that  walke  he  knowes, 
Vnworthy  wretch  had  oft  ben  with  him  there, 
Oft  as  a  friend  the  place  he  did  frequent. 
But  now  foe-harted,  trecherous  of  intent. 

As  in  a  garden  Adam  difobayed. 

And  there  became  a  captiue  to  the  diuell, 

So  in  a  garden  lefus  was  betrayed, 

To  fuffer  death  for  Adams  former  euill : 
Within  a  garden  Adams  crime  offended, 
For  which  Chrift  was  in  garden  apprehended. 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

And  as  in  pleafures  garden  at  the  fall, 
For  Adams  clothing,  dead  beafls  skins  God  gaue, 
In  euidence  that  death  went  ouer  all. 
And  that  his  garment  might  prefage  his  graue: 
So  Chrift  in  garden  tombe  and  dead  mans  fhrowd, 
Defray'd  our  debts,  with  paiment  bed  alowd. 

Ouer  the  brooke,  to  garden  they  repaire, 
(Swift  were  their  feet  about  the  (heading  blood) 
Euen  to  the  place  that  lefus  vs'd  for  praier. 
Where  he  intreated  grace  for  fmners  good, 
Where  he  confulted  to  redeeme  and  faue: 
Thither  they  came,  refolu'd  his  life  to  haue. 

With  eafie  fearch  the  guiltleffe  may  be  found, 
Whofe  quiet  thoughts  and  peace  vnite  in  one, 
A  voice,  Whom  feeke yoii?  threw  them  all  to  ground, 
A  power  diuine,  to  make  true  godhead  knowne. 
lefus  came  forth,  encountred  them  with  breath. 
And  they  at  once  fell  backward  all  to  th'earth. 

Had  then  his  will  confented  to  his  power, 

If  luftice  had  appear 'd,  and  mercy  hid, 

They  had  defcended  hell  that  finfull  hower, 

Like  Qorah,  Da  than,  and  Abiram  did. 
Where  th'one  was  feandale  to  the  feruant  done. 
The  other  was  rebellion  gainft  the  fonne. 

B  While 

Poems  vpon  the  PafsioJi. 

While  Jeroboam  ftretcht  his  threatning  hand 
(Right  infolent  and  full  of  daring  pride) 
To  ftay  the  Prophet,  giuing  ftridt  command, 
Judgement  laid  hold  on  him,  his  hand  was  dryde: 
But  thefe  in  armes,  and  violent  enterprife, 
Though  throwne  to  ground,  doe  vnrepentant  rife, 

Deaths  harbenger  vnto  Damafco  towne, 

Then  bloody-mind  Saint-perfecuting  Sattl 

Was  with  like  powreful  voice  from  heauen  thrown  down, 

But  to  conuerfion  grace  imploy'd  his  fail/ 

With  greater  fauour,  bliffe  can  none  acquaint. 
Then  crowne  a  greeuous  fmner,  glorious  Saint. 

But  thefe  vvhofe  hearts  were  hardned,  fight  extindl. 
Haters  of  knowledge,  children  of  the  night, 
At  war  with  God,  in  league  with  Sathan  linckt 
Groffe  darkneffe  followers,  fhunners  of  the  light, 
Stiffe  necked,  ftubborne,  and  rebellious  lewes, 
Contemne  faluation;  offered  grace  refufe. 

Wifdomes  beloued,  Ifraels  vvifefl  king. 
Doth  fay  the  wicked  cannot  fleeping  reft, 
Till  they  are  pleafed  with  fome  ill  done  thing; 
The  worfer  deed,  the  doer  likes  for  beft: 

A  minute  fpent  in  good,  feems  long  loth'd  day, 
A  night  of  fmne,  but  moment  ftolne  away. 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

How  toilefome  tedious  had  that  watching  bin, 

If  vertue  had  perfuaded  thereunto, 

But  Owle-eied  they  became  to  compaffe  fin, 

Fit  was  the  time  fo  foule  a  fadt  to  do: 

That  work  of  darkneffe,  ioin'd  with  darkneffe  power 
Might  meet  together  all  in  darkneffe  hower. 

When  they  fhonld  reft,  their  malice  not  indur'd  it, 

For  malice  neuer  clofeth  fleeping  eies, 

And  when  they  fliould  not  wake,  reuenge  procur'd  it, 

Reuenge,  doth  hourely,  fome  reuenge  deuife. 
Who  rides  the  deuill  hath  no  curbe  they  fay. 
For  malice  drawes,  and  fury  fpurs  away. 

Th'vnfeemely  vprore,  to  the  night  vnkind. 
Happening  as  frightfull  as  in  fires  danger, 
Caus'd  him  make  haft  that  left  his  clothes  behind, 
Hardly  entreated,  like  vnwelcome  ftranger. 
For  in  retire,  his  cafe  like  lofephs  ftands. 
Who  left  his  garment  in  his  miftreffe  hands. 

T'was  no  offence  fpringing  from  his  intent. 
That  did  demerite  violent  force  refift  him, 
Yet  pawn'd  he  fhirt  for  skin  before  he  went, 
Gladdeft  when  naked  gone  that  rage  had  mift  him, 
What  furies  guided  this  mifguided  fwarme.^ 
To  bend  their  force  againft  vnthoughted  harme. 

B  ij  When 

Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

When  traitor  meets,  thefe  quaint  deceits  he  had, 

In  geflure,  kind  imbracements  with  a  kiffe; 

In  words.  All haile,  God  faue  thee,  or  be  glad; 

Yet  murder,  blood,  and  death,  lies  hid  in  this. 
This  cup  of  gold  did  poifons  draught  begin. 
This  greene  had  ferpents  lurking  hid  within. 

The  word  All  haile,  feru'd  loab  to  falute, 
(Good  words  do  often  make  for  ill  pretence,) 
But  Abner  found  a  mortall  ftab  the  fruit, 
While  falfhood  fpake,  twas  murder  did  infence: 
Like  that,  was  this  of  ludas  falfe  intent, 
By  word,  God  fane,  the  deed  Deftroy  was  ment. 

All  haile,  the  Angell  reuerently  did  vfe. 
With  heau'nly  tongue,  to  holy  virgins  eare. 
All  haile,  in  Pilats  hall  they  did  abufe, 
That  fcorning  Chrift,  prefented  Aiie  there, 
Higheft  in  fauour  of  all  women  gain'd  it, 
And  chiefeft  fmner  of  all  men,  profan'd  it. 

Firft  word  it  was,  Gods  gracious  loue  tv'nfold 
Beginning  at  our  fauiours  incarnation, 
Firfl  word  wherewith  falfe  ludas  bought  and  fold, 
Whofe  trafficke  turn'd  Chrifts  death,  his  own  damnation. 
What  profite  his  that  all  the  world  fhould  winne.^ 
With  foule  in  deaths  eternall  debt  by  fmne. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Why  com'ft  thou  friend  ?  what  mean'ft  thou,  lefus  faid, 

At  th'inftant  houre  my  praiers  and  teares  commend  thee, 

To  giue  a  kiffe  whereby  I  am  betraide, 

And  with,  All  haile,  brings  troupes  to  apprehend  meef 
I  tearme  thee  friend,  vngratefull  as  thou  art. 
That  fhow'ft  nor  friend  nor  yet  difciples  part. 

To  call  thee  friend,  it  doth  thus  much  betoken, 

No  caufe  in  me  hath  canfeld  loues  defire. 

But  thy  reuolting  hath  our  friendfhip  broken, 

Vnaltred  I  remaine  the  fame  entire: 

If  thou  with  Daiiici,  I  haiie  finned,  couldft  fay. 
His  anfwere  thine.  Thy  fmne  is  done  away. 

Returne  thee  with  repentant  hearts  imbrace. 
And  mercy  fhall  with  iuftice  dome  fufpend, 
I  left  not  thee,  why  doeft  thou  run  from  grace. 
Though  thou  haft  fold  me,  ftill  I  call  thee  friend. 
But  if  thou  wilt  not  be  reclaimed  backe, 
Be  thou  thy  felfe  thine  owne  foules  wilfull  wracke. 

When  murder  had  faluted,  treafon  kift, 

And  bribery  imbrac'd  with  figne  of  gladneffe, 

In  which  the  traitors  feruice  did  confifl, 

Then  prefs'd  the  lewes  on  Chrift  with  furious  madneffe. 
Like  hunger-paunched  vvolues  prone  to  deuour 
The  lambe  fubiedled  to  their  rauening  power. 

B  iij  Right 

Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Right  manly  valiant  Petcy  did  him  beare, 
When  no  difciplc  durfl  attempt  the  like, 
T Vnfheath  his  fword,  and  cut  off  Malats  eare, 
Againft  an  armed  multitude  to  ftrike, 

Danger  and  feare  are  cowards  turnd  afide 

When  manhood  is  by  refolution  tride. 

But  lefus  did  no  humane  forces  need, 
That  legions  had  of  Angels  at  command. 
And  Peter  had  no  charge  to  fight,  but  feed 
The  flocke  of  fheepe  committed  to  his  hand, 
It  was  Gods  will  to  fuffer,  not  refift, 
His  power  gaue  power,  and  finne  did  what  it  lifi;. 

He  was  content,  their  violent  force  fliould  bind  him 
And  lead  him  thence  vnto  the  torturing  place, 
To  teare  his  flefli  with  whips  to  mocke  and  blind  him, 
To  buffet  and  to  fpit  vpon  his  face. 

T'accufe  him  falfe  by  flanders  lying  breath. 

To  dome  him  fentence  fliames  moft  odious  death. 

Errors  torment  my  tortur'd  foule  perplexed, 
Fell  furies  fright,  and  hale  me  on  away, 
To  Cayphas  and  the  reft  with  horrour  vexed 
Goes  Simons  fonne,  Gods  fon  did  falfe  betray, 
Such  is  my  fmne  againft  that  guiltleffe  blood, 
No  baulme  in  Ifrael  left  to  doe  me  good. 

They  anfwer'd,  careleffe  of  my  wretched  ftate, 
IVJiafs  that  to  vsf  Looke  thoit  thy  f elf e  vnto  it, 
Then  vengeance  I  exped;,  grace  comes  too  late, 
Refolue  no  leffe,  for  that  you  brib'd  me  do  it, 
Sathan  feduc'd,  I  acted  the  offence, 
Defpaire  is  come,  there  lies  your  thirty  pence. 

I  am  perditions  child,  outcaft  forlorne, 
All  haile  in  word,  but  in  the  heart  all  hatefull. 
It  had  ben  good,  fo  bad  had  nere  ben  borne. 
That  of  all  creatures  am  the  mofl  ingratefull : 
Oh  had  I  neuer  liu'd,  furuiuing  fhame 
Had  vnreported  hid  my  odious  name. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Bafc  couetoufneffe  no  more  Gehezies  finne, 

My  intreft  in  that  crime  doth  thine  controule, 

Thou  waft  but  leaper  of  polluted  skinne, 

My  leprofie  is  a  defiled  foule: 

Thou  took'ft  a  bribe  againfi:  thy  maifters  will, 
But  I  was  brib'd  to  kiffe,  and  kifl  to  kill. 

Maries  good  worke  Chrift  promis'd  to  commend 

Perpetually  in  euer-liuing  praife, 

But  my  vile  acl  beyond  all  flinted  end, 

Shall  euidence  I  trod  the  left  hand  waies, 
My  title  thus  the  Scriptures  fhall  record: 
yudas  Ifcarioth,  that  betrayd  the  Lord, 

Three  euils  in  one  I  did  commit,  in  this 
That  gainft  the  King  of  glory  I  haue  done: 
Deceit  betray 'd  with  fliew  of  kind-men t  kiffe, 
Couetoufneffe  incenft,  that  finne  begun, 
Impudent  boldneffe  did  intrude  the  deed, 
Ere  any  mou'd  or  wifht  me  to  proceed. 

I  knew  the  choife,  and  gainefull  happie  way, 
That  heauens  gate,  was  fi;raighteft  dore  to  enter, 
I  taught  the  world,  take  heed  broad  paths  doe  flray. 
And  yet  my  felfe  the  wide-gate  wilfull  venter. 
Like  Noahs  workemen,  fuch  my  flate  is  found 
They  built  an  arke  for  him,  themfelues  were  drownd. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsiou. 

I  haue  excluded  faiths  refolued  truft 
In  him  by  whom  the  true  repentant  Hue, 
Qain-V\kQ  affirming  nought  but  vengeance  muft 
Reward  my  fmnes,  mercy  no  fuch  forgiue: 
My  heart's  indurate,  hardned,  vnrelenting, 
Pafl  is  the  deed,  the  doer  paft  repenting. 

Though  Daiiid  found  remorfe  to  vvaile  his  fmne, 
And  Nathans  comfort,  eas'd  his  mournfull  taske, 
Diftruft  and  horrour  haue  fo  hemd  me  in, 
That  might  I  haue,  I  hopeleffe  will  not  aske; 

Feare,  fhame,  and  guilt  do  haunt  me  at  the  heeles, 
Of  iudgement,  men,  and  what  my  confcience  feeles. 

My  dying  foule,  refufmg  lining  meane. 

Denies  with  heav'nly  Manna  to  be  fed 

A  fea  of  teares  can  neuer  rince  it  cleane. 

Yet  could  one  drop,  that  drop  fhould  ne're  be  fhed. 
What  teares,  what  praiers  can  his  atonement  make, 
Whofe  portion  is  in  vengeance  fearefull  lakef 

Mine  inward  confcience  doth  foules  ruine  tell, 
Authenticke  witneffe,  and  feuere  accufer. 
Where  I  abide,  I  feeling  find  a  hell 
Tormenting  me,  that  am  felfe  torment  chufer: 

Sound  confcience  well  is  faid  like  wall  of  braffe; 

Corrupted,  fit  compar'd  to  broken  glaffe. 

C  More 


FOCTHS  vpon  the  pafsion. 

More  blind  then  thofe  vvhofe  fight  fight-giuer  gaue, 
More  deaffe  and  dumbe  then  any  that  he  cured, 
More  dead  then  Lazants  in  his  flincking  graue, 
When  he  deaths  vaut  till  fift  dales  baile  indured. 
Not  eies,  eares,  limmes,  tongue,  body,  haue  defedl, 
It  is  my  foule,  that  faluing  heauens  reied:. 

If  firft  borne  man,  the  firfl  of  defp'rate  mind, 
By  whom  the  firft  of  guiltleffe  blood  was  fhed. 
Did  fay,  There  was  no  grace  for  him  to  find. 
But  vengeance  muft  be  heaped  on  his  head: 
Let  me  (fmnes  monfter,  maffe  of  curfed  euill) 
Bid  Sathan  welcome,  and  imbrace  the  deuill. 

When  Chrift  fhall  come  in  clouds,  and  fmnes  be  fcand, 
All  Adams  fonnes  expecting  rightfull  dome, 
I  wretch  amongft  the  goats  fliall  trembling  ftand, 
The  right-hand  fheepe,  affoord  no  traitor  roome. 
To  crie  Lord,  Lord,  this  anfwere  fhall  be  got, 
Depart  you  curfed,  hence  I  know  you  not. 

The  cafting  out  of  deuils  then  obie(5ted, 
Will  ceafe  no  wrath,  extenuate  no  dangers: 
Not  words  with  God,  well  doing  is  refpedted. 
His  Citizens  deeds  difference  from  the  ftrangers, 

Me  thinkes  I  heare  the  iudge,  fterne,  full  of  ire; 

Pronounce  my  fentence  to  eternall  fire. 



Poems  vpoii  the  Pafsion. 

Was  I  not  cald  to  heav'ns  roiall  feaft? 
I  was:  but  came  as  one  that  little  cared, 
How  came  I  ?  brutifh  like  vnreuerent  beaft, 
Wanting  a  wedding  garment,  vnprepared: 
Bold  daring  wretch  in  fuch  a  facred  place, 
To  preffe  in  fmnes  caft  fuite,  rent,  torne,  and  bafe. 

But  fearefull  guerdon  for  fo  foule  attempt, 
All-feeing  eies  beheld  my  rags  bewray 'd. 
And  moft  feuerely  thence  he  did  exempt. 
Bind  him  both  hand  and  foot  (his  iuftice  faid) 
And  caft  him  out,  no  fuch  may  here  partake, 
The  Lambe  with  Sion,  Sathan  and  the  Lake. 

Would  I  had  neuer  knowne  Apoftles  place, 
Would  I  had  ne're  ben  meffenger  of  truth, 
Would  I  had  neuer  preacht  the  way  to  grace, 
Would  I  had  ne're  ben  borne,  or  died  in  youth : 
Who  knowes  his  maifters  will  and  doth  negled;  it, 
Sore  ftripes  and  many  fhall  feuere  corredl  it. 

I  muft  falute  AJhur  and  Elains  traines, 

To  drinke  with  Tiiball  of  the  wrathfull  cup, 

Edom  inuites  me  to  th'infernall  paines 

No  time  of  grace,  with  Chrift  againe  to  fup. 

Now  feaft  where  teeeth  are  gnafht&  hands  are  wrong. 
Where  Dmes  begs  for  drops  to  coole  his  tong. 

C  ij  Down 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Downe  by  the  way  that  Corah  went  to  hell, 

Like  Dathan  and  Abirain  to  defcend 

Where  furies,  fiends  and  damned  ghofts  do  dwell, 

And  euer  torments,  neuer  know  an  end, 

Let  earth  deuide  and  opening  fwallow  then, 
The  moll;  accurs'd  of  all  the  fonnes  of  men. 

The  man  that  from  lerufalem  defcended, 
And  hapned  in  the  hands  of  bloody  theeues, 
A  pittifull  Samaritane  befriended 
With  mercy,  and  his  hard  diftreffe  releeues: 
Such  holy  loue,  true  charity  fuppli'd  him, 
Pitty  was  prefent  and  no  grace  deni'd-him. 

But  I  from  new  lerufalem  retyr'd 
The  reflfull  Canaan,  happineffe  vnbounded, 
For  thirty  pence  hels  iourny  being  hyr'd, 
In  Sathans  fnares  I  fell,  that  theefe  hath  wounded: 
And  prieft  is  paft,  Samaritane  gone  by. 
Seeing  me  cureleffe,  careleffe  let  me  lie. 

Ah  Magdalen  fower  forrowes  turn'd  thy  fweet, 
Well  didft  thou  weepe  to  wafh,  and  wafhing  gaine, 
With  hairie  towell  wiping  lefus  feet, 
Thy  true  repentant  teares  did  grace  obtaine: 
While  I  thy  vertues  fought  to  haue  difgraft, 
Tearming  that  holy  worke,  A  needleffe  waft. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

But  happy  woman,  guiltleffe  waft'  controld, 
How  falfely  did  I  wifh  thy  ointment  fpared  ? 
How  couetous  faid  I,  Better  this  been  fold 
And gmn  the poore,  waft  for  the  poore  I  cared? 
Ah  no,  my  guifty  confcience  doth  deny  it, 
I  bare  the  purfe,  and  would  haue  gained  by  it. 

Sanipfon,  till  Sathan  fierce  Philiftine  caught  me, 
And  in  his  rage  put  out  my  fprituall  eies, 
Then  blind  in  fmne,  to  Qayphas  houfe  he  brought  me, 
Againft  the  piller  where  all  mercy  lies, 
I  bent  my  force  to  mooue  the  corner  ftone, 
Deftrudlion  fell,  my  felfe  deftroy'd  alone. 

Like  lezabels,  fo  my  corrupted  thought, 
When  fhe  complotted  for  good  Naboths  ground, 
Cleare  purchafe  twas,  her  wile  his  vineyard  bought; 
Such  feem'd  my  bribe,  I  held  it  money  found  : 

But  fee  how  foone  fweet  fmnes  conuert  to  fower, 

I  loath  for  euer,  that  I  lou'd  an  hower. 

Thefe  three  deuide  my  foule,  Fear,  Thought,  &  Anguifti, 

Their  intreft  is  the  forfaits  of  my  fall. 

But  while  in  claime  they  ftriuing  let  me  languifh. 

The  roaring  Lion  comes  and  feazeth  all: 

Infatiable  ferpent  pleas'd  with  nought  but  this, 
Both  foule  and  body  muft  be  graunted  his. 

C  iij  If 


Poems  vpon  the  Pa f si  on. 

If  graceleffe  outcafts  in  this  world  begin 
To  taft  of  fecond  death's  tormenting  power, 
If  foules  furpriz'd  by  felfe-wrought  murdring  finne, 
Turne  vengeance  glaffe  to  run  a  ftayleffe  hower, 
Then  here  in  earneft  of  perpetuall  care, 
I  vveare  damnations  liuery,  blacke  defpaire. 

Deuorc'd  from  mercy,  alienate  from  grace, 
Reft  of  repentance,  wedded  vnto  euill, 
From  higheft  calling,  downe  to  loweft  place. 
From  chofen  Twelue,  a  fmgled  outcaft  deiiill ; 
From  th'holy  city  lou'd  of  God  fo  well. 
Within  whofe  ftreets  may  no  vncleaneffe  dwell. 

When  Chrift  foretold  intended  treafon  nie. 
By  one  of  vs  his  guefts  to  be  betray 'd 
Each  llraight  inquir'd,  Lord  is  it  /,  or  I? 
But  my  demand  had  anfwer.  Thou  haft  /aid. 

I  that  was  fed  that  night  with  loues  regard, 

Return'd  the  giuer  treafon  for  reward. 

Darke  night,  black  deed,  blind  foule,  and  Sathans  flaues 

Did  fit,  defile,  deftroy  it  felfe,  did  further. 

With  fliade,  with  fmne,  with  death,  with  clubs  &  flaues, 

T'intrap,  betray,  condemne,  afsift  to  murder. 

The  Lambe  of  God,  the  rocke,  the  dore,  the  vine, 

The  Angels  brightneffe,  heav'ns  eternall  fliine. 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Much  vvorfe,  though  Ioab-X\^^  I  gaue  a  kiffe, 
I  pris'd  my  birth-right  bafe,  at  Efawes  gaine, 
I  putchas'd  hell  with  loffe  of  heauens  bliffe, 
And  in  effedt,  exchanged  ioy  for  paine. 
Oh  foolifh  fot,  vile  earthly  droffe  efteemer, 
To  fell  true  life,  dead  Adams  fonnes  redeemer. 

Thou  partial  1  hand  fwai'd  fword  of  Peters  drawne, 
I  fhould  ben  mangled,  and  not  M ulcus  eare, 
Like  currifh  dog,  it  was  my  flattering  fawne, 
Did  bite  my  maifter  vvorfe  then  any  there, 
Miftaken  champion  in  thy  valour  fwaruing, 
To  giue  his  eare  my  trecherous  hearts  deferuing. 

I  was  cheefe  aclor  in  the  lewifh  fpight, 
I  was  a  captaine  to  that  rafcall  rout,  . 

I  wrought  the  tumult  of  that  guilty  night, 
I  was  blind  guide,  to  that  they  went  about, 
They  all  expedled  notice  come  from  me, 
Till  craft  had  kift,  they  knew  not  which  was  he. 

Falfe  tongue,  pronounc'd  All  haile  to  hurtfull  end. 
When  hollow  heart  fequeftred  loues  true  zeale, 
Heav'ns  mildneffe  asked,  Why  art  thou  come  friend? 
Straight  violent  hands,  not  words,  our  thoughts  reueale. 
Call  him  not  friend,  that  fauors  mod  of  foe, 
Tearme  me  thy  hangman,  for  I  merite  fo. 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

In  death's  purfute,  infatiate  thirfling  blood, 
We  pofted  thence  to  Priefls,  with  rudeft  throng, 
Where  pureft  lambe  before  his  fhearer  flood, 
Pleading  not  guilty,  by  truths  filent  tong, 
Ther's  craft  accufing,  hate  helps  to  deuife, 
And  falfhood  forgeth,  in  a  mint  of  lies. 

My  impious  eies  beheld  without  remorfe, 
The  graceleffe  vfage  of  heau'ns  gracious  king, 
Scornd,  fpit  at,  mocked,  yet  repentance  force, 
Sought  not  for  fhelter  vnder  mercies  wing, 
In  all  thefe  euils  I  pitttied  not  his  paine. 
Til  being  condemn'd,  then  greeu'd  my  greeues  in  vain. 

No  true  contrition  had  my  faults  defence. 
Though  I  confefs'd  I  fmn'd  in  his  betraying, 
Twas  defp'rate  fatisfadlion  came  from  thence, 
For  faith  was  liueleffe,  fhould  ben  vengeance  flaying, 
IVrath  is  gone  forth,  was  Mofes  admonition. 
But  lights  on  me,  that  am  for  wraths  perdition. 

What  wondrous  obiedls  haue  mine  eies  beheld, 
Deaffe,  dumbe  and  lame,  the  blind  and  cureleffe,  cured; 
The  ftubborne  winds  with  checking  calmely  ftild, 
The  dead  reuiu'd,  death's  fleepe  foure  daies  indured, 
Fine  loaues,  two  fifli,  fine  thoufands  fatisfied, 
Yet  more  then  much,  fpare  crums  were  multiplied. 


Poems  vpoii  the  Pafsion. 

My  taft  did  vvitneffe  water  turn'd  to  wine, 
One  cur'd  that  toucht  my  maifters  vefture  hemme, 
Commanded  deuils  forth  men,  to  enter  fwine. 
And  in  the  fea  deftrud;ion  plunging  them, 

Mine  eares  haue  heard,  and  eies  haue  feene  the  fight 
That  Kings  haue  vvifht,  and  Prophets  neuer  might. 

Yet  he  that's  cal'd  manflaier  from  beginning, 
Deceiuer,  dragon,  ferpent,  father  of  lies, 
God  of  this  world,  author  of  humane  finning, 
Hardner  of  hearts,  blinder  of  fpirituall  eies, 
Prince  of  the  aire,  malicious  euill  fprite, 
Made  me  hels  gueft,  whom  heav'ns  did  kind  inuite. 

Like  as  the  brauing  greene,  but  barren  tree 
(That  flourifht  faire  when  not  a  ^'gg^  was  found) 
Chrift  curs'd  with,  Netier  fruit  grow  more  on  thee, 
Becaufe  it  did  no  good,  but  comber  ground : 
So  fares  the  falfe  deluding  fhow  of  mine, 
Greene  leav'd  beginning,  withered  fruitleffe  fine. 

Could  finnes-befotted,  hell-path  wrandrers,  fee 
The  horrours  on  an  outcaft  wretch  impofed, 
Or  fence  the  inward  worme  that  gnaweth  me, 
(Bondflaue  to  bondage  neuer  to  be  lofed) 

They  would  retire  the  flefh  moft  fearefull  race. 
To  auoid  hels  gaole,  obtain'd  with  loffe  of  grace. 

D  Me 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsioii. 

Me  thinkes  my  confcience  turnes  a  blacke  leav'd  booke, 
Titl'd  Diftruft,  dedicate  to  Defpaire, 
Where  couetous  eie  and  traitrous  heart  do  looke 
On  vengeance  lines,  pointed  this  period,  Care; 
The  argument  is  (hame,  the  fubiecl  fmne. 
The  index  thus  explaines  the  euils  therein: 

A'  poftle  once,  increafmg  Chrifls  eleuen, 
B  agbearer,  to  the  charge  of  purfe  afsign'd, 
Q  ailed  to  preach  faluations  path  to  heauen, 
D  eflrudlions  heire,  the  worft  of  wicked  mind : 
E  nuying  at  good  vvorke  by  others  done, 
F  aithleffe  to  God,  falfe  hearted  to  his  fonne. 

G  reedy  to  gaine  on  earth,  with  heauens  loffe, 
H  opeleffe  of  mercy,  in  fin's  moft  diftreffe, 
/  udas  whofe  kiffe  prefag'd  Chrifts  dying  croffe, 
K  nowledge  contemner,  errors  foule  fucceffe. 
L  oitrer  in  holy  harueft,  place  abufer, 
M  urdrer  of  life,  mine  owne  damnation  chufer. 

N  aked  of  grace,  the  fouleft  ere  defiled, 
O  ffences  ad:or  in  the  higheft  degree, 
P  rouoking  wrath,  from  mercies  throne  exiled, 
Q  uenching  the  fprite,  that  erfi;  gaue  light  in  me, 
R  enouncing  glories  race  to  gain  the  crowne, 
S  eruant  to  finne,  whofe  hire  pale  death  laies  downe. 

T  raitor 


poems  vpon  the  pafsion. 

T  raitor  to  God,  that  breathing  earth  deluded, 

27  nholy-thoughted,  full  of  bitter  gall, 

IV  ots  querrifter,  from  Angels  quires  excluded, 

X  pian  the  outward,  inward,  not  at  all, 

Y  oaked  by  fnine  perpetuall,  Sathans  flaue, 
Z  eale  in  his  feruice  loft,  that  none  can  faue. 

This  regifter  records  the  race  I  run, 

By  caradters  fpelling  my  future  woe, 

A  tragedy  by  me  mufl  be  begun. 

On  hels  blacke  ftage,  for  there  to  adl  I  goe. 

Since  eies  of  God,  and  all  in  heauen  abhorre  me, 
I  will  defcend,  the  pit  hath  conforts  for  me. 

Curs'd  be  the  parents  that  ingendred  me, 
Curs'd  be  the  wombe  that  bare,  and  paps  that  fed, 
Curs'd  be  the  day  when  I  worlds  light  did  fee, 
Curs'd  be  the  houre  my  foule  from  grace  was  led, 

Curs'd  be  the  time  when  I  did  entertaine 

Curfed  affection,  to  accurfed  gaine. 

Retire  for  euer  from  the  fweet  fociety 
Oi  Peter,  lames,  and  John,  true  heires  of  grace; 
Conuerfe  remaine  of  Tiine,  with  all  impiety. 
No  eie  henceforth  fhall  view  Chrifts  traitors  face. 
End  loathed  daies,  my  fadl  abhorres  your  light. 
Wrap  me  from  eies  cole-fac'd  eternall  night. 

D  ij  Sauls 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsioii. 

Sauls  frightfull  guefl,  that  fence  depriuing  fprite, 
Outragious  rauing  fury  vvhifpers,  Hang  thee, 
What  Syon  tunes,  or  Datiids  harpe  delight, 
Can  ceafe  or  eafe  the  horrours  that  do  pang  me? 
Then  be  my  inftrument  one  iarring  firing, 
And  treble  woe,  the  houling  note  I  fmg. 

Bufh-creeping  Came,  beholding  for  thy  end 

More  to  an  arrow,  then  the  marke-mans  aime; 

I  doe  difdaine  blind  Lamech  fhould  befriend, 

None  in  my  tragedy  fhall  action  claime: 
But  I  and  Sathan  we  haue  both  agreed. 
To  leaue  the  world  a  defp'rate  damned  deed. 

Not  to  difmount  a  check-cloud  earthy  heape, 
Or  make  foule  paffage  by  a  poinard  point, 
Nor  to  bequeath  the  fea  a  drowning  leape; 
But  fatall  cord  fhall  cracke  my  breathing  ioint, 

Abfolons  tree,  prowd  Hamans  halter-knell. 

And  I  the  hangman,  like  Achitophell. 

Lead  on  defpaire,  confounder  of  my  fprite. 
Direct:  vnto  fome  nooke  of  hellifh  fhade, 
For  fliames  fake,  be  it  gloomier  then  that  night 
In  which  by  me  heav'ns  brightneffe  was  betraide/ 
Blacker  then  death,  more  fable  hew'd  then  hell, 
Where  fulpher  flames,  with  vtter  darkneffe  dwell. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Harder  then  PharoaJis  tenne  times  hardned  heart, 
Bloudier  then  Abels  butcher,  far  inclin'd/ 
End  traitors  life,  begin  a  hangmans  part. 
Let  hangmans  part  performe  thy  defp'rate  mind, 
Thy  defp'rate  mind  be  vvitneffe  th'art  accurft, 
Rent  heart,  drop  blood,  gufli  bowels,  belly  burfl. 

Peters  teares  at  the 
Cockes  crowing. 

Ome  fharpefl  greefs  imploy  repentant  eies, 
Taske  them  as  bitter  drops  as  ere  were  fhed. 
Send  teares  to  earth,  and  fighs  vp  to  the  skies, 
This  inftant  houre  a  Soule  and  Sorrows  wed, 
Sweet  teares  and  fighs,  at  dolours  deere  requefts, 
Come  you  &  yours  my  harts  right  welcom  gefts. 

Let  eies  become  the  fountaines  of  my  teares, 
And  let  my  teares  be  flouds  to  moift  my  heart, 
And  let  my  heartfull  of  repentant  feares. 
By  teares  and  forrowes,  turne  a  true  conuert : 
At  bafe  obiedtions  of  as  bafe  a  maid, 
With  oths  and  curfes  I  haue  Chrift  denai'd. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

The  vvatchfull  bird  that  centinels  the  morne, 
Shrill  herald  to  Anroraes  early  rifing, 
That  oft  proclaimes  the  day  ere  day  be  borne, 
Diflinguifher  from  pitch-fac'd  nights  difguifing, 
Surceas'd  to  heed,  why  nature  taught  him  crow, 
And  did  exclaime  on  me  for  fmning  fo. 

O  haughty  vaunts  refembling  skie-bred  thunder, 
How  far  remote  your  adlions  ftand  aloofe, 
A  coward  heart  kept  words  and  deeds  afunder, 
Stout  champion  brags  are  quailed  in  the  proofe. 
Weake  womans  breath  hath  ouerthrowne  a  rocke, 
And  humane  pride  is  daunted  by  a  Cocke. 

Harken  this  birds  rebuke;  and  harkning,  feare: 
Falfe  periur'd  tongue,  now  are  thy  boaftings  tri'de, 
Chrift  hardeft  fortunes  part  thou  vowd'ft  to  beare, 
But  loe  a  cocke  doth  crow  it,  thou  haft  li'de: 

Thy  deedleffe  words,  words  vnconfirmd  by  truth, 
Haue  turnd  mine  eies  to  teares,  my  heart  to  ruth. 

The  dales  approch  that  whilome  nature  taskes, 
He  chaunted  not,  nor  ment  blacke  nights  defcending, 
But  foule  fac'd  fmne,  from  fcarffing  words  vnmaskes; 
Plie  bitter  teares  your  fuite,  for  wraths  fufpending, 
Eies  that  when  Chrift  fweat  blood,  fecure  did  fliiber, 
Now  fhed  more  tears  then  truthles  tong  can  number. 



Poems  vpon  the  pafsion. 

Lament  my  foule  thy  ftate,  a  ffcate  diftreft, 

Thou  art  reuolt  from  true  felicity, 

Sigh  forrowes  forth,  let  greefes  weepe  out  the  reft, 

Weepe  wretched  man  repleat  with  mifery, 
Let  neuer  eies  giue  cheekes  a  fpace  to  drie, 
Till  teares  reraine  loft  orace  in  mercies  eie. 

Weepe  falteft  brinifh  teares,  the  more  the  fweeter. 
Weepe  fatisfadlion,  fmnes  repentant  foule, 
Weepe  fraile  difciple,  woman-daunted  Peter, 
Weepe  weakling,  fubiecl:  to  a  Cockes  controule, 
Weepe  Chrifts  deniall,  worft  of  all  thy  crimes, 
And  ouerweepe  each  teare  tenne  thoufand  times. 

O  God  from  whom  all  graces  doe  abound, 
For  thy  afsifting  aid  I  humbly  call. 
Lend  mercies  hand  to  raife  from  fmfull  ground. 
And  being  on  foot,  protect  againft  like  fall, 
Thy  fauours  Lord  I  truly  do  implore, 
Rifmg  to  ftand,  ftanding  to  fall  no  more. 


The  I  ewes  mocking  ofChrift. 

jOntempt,  reproch,  difdaine  and  fpight, 
|A  meeting  had  in  Pilafs  hall, 
iTo  fcoffe  at  Chrift,  finne  to  delight 
Hell  furies,  and  themfelues  vvithall: 
In  purple  robe  they  did  him  place, 
Meane  while  their  foules  difrob'd  of  grace. 

A  thornie  crowne  vpon  his  head, 

A  reed  (for  fcepter)  in  his  hand, 

Foes  guard  him  round,  all  friends  were  fled, 

Aloofe  his  poore  Difciples  ftand. 
All  haile  was  heard  on  ev'ry  fide, 
And  he  fwaied  moft,  could  moll;  deride. 

They  blind  his  fight,  whofe  foules  more  blind 
Had  quite  extindl  the  light  of  grace, 
They  buffet  him,  and  bid  him  find 
Who  'twas  that  ftrooke  him  on  the  face: 
All  fpeech  of  fpight  and  damned  ieft. 
With  euery  vice,  was  in  requeft. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pa/sion. 

When  fierce  Philiflians  had  difmaid 
The  penfiue  Saul,  and  forc'd  him  flie, 
To  him  that  bare  his  fpeare,  he  faid 
Oh  draw  thy  fword,  friend  me  to  die, 

Let  not  my  deaths-man  be  my  foe, 

Leaft  fcorning  fhame  difhonour  fo. 

Such  greefes  a  noble  heart  doth  find, 

To  heare  reprochfuU  words  offence, 

Like  forrowes  cannot  gall  his  mind. 

If  mortall  wounds  fhould  rid  him  hence: 
The  thoughts  that  haughty  courage  beares, 
Greeue  more  at  words  then  deaths  pale  feares. 

Then  what  report  can  aptly  fhow 

The  pafsions  Chrifts  afflid;ed  foule 

(Through  taunts  and  fcoffes)  did  vndergoe. 

By  lewifh  abied:  bafe  controule? 

By  fo  much  more  his  greefes  increaft, 
By  how  much  more  his  guilt  was  leaft. 

Aboue  all  flefli  that  ere  was  borne, 

Of  iniuries  he  moft  indur'd, 

Becaufe  inflicfted  wrongfull  fcorne. 

No  fpot  of  crime  in  him  procurd, 
If  one  offend  and  fhame  difpleafe, 
The  fault  compar'd  'twill  fomewhat  eafe. 

E  Th'Egip- 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsioii. 

Th'Egiptians  greeuing  of  the  lewes, 

And  the  Philiftians  vexing  Said, 

The  mockes  the  children  once  did  vfe 

T'oftend  Gods  Prophet  therewithal!, 
And  Michols  fcoffing  Ifraels  king, 
Were  common  wrongs,  a  daily  thing. 

Such  wrongs,  of  wrongs  vfurpe  the  name, 

To  thofe  extreames  to  lefus  done, 

The  world  hath  neuer  knowne  like  fhame, 

Of  that  fmne  laid  vpon  Gods  fonne, 
It  had  been  iuft,  on  man  accurft, 
If  forrowes  had  perform'd  their  vvorfl, 

But  when  a  pure  and  holy  life, 

With  fpot  or  blemifh  neuer  ftayn'd, 

Twixt  God  and  man  fhall  vmpire  ftrife, 

To  be  himfelfe  for  guilty  payn'd : 

What  wrongs  fo  great,  what  paines  were  fuch.-^ 
Who  but  a  God  would  doe  fo  much? 


^^y     The  feuen  words  of  Chrift 

vpon  the  Croffe. 

\Pater  ignofce  illis,  qitia  nefcinnt  quid^ 

At  her  (our  Sauiors  loue  to  Tinners,  cries) 
Forgiiie  them  this  their  fin  to  me  hath  donne, 
For  they  by  whom  my  tortur'd  body  dies, 
Know  not  they  murder  thy  life-giuing  fonne: 
PVJiat  I  indure,  in  flefh  and  fprite  deuiding, 
They  do  it  through  blind  ignorance  mifguiding. 

Oh  Charity  of  wondrous  Admiration, 
And  patience  farre  extending  humane  fence, 
Sunfhine  of  grace,  to  deed  of  darke  damnation, 
True  pardoner,  to  pardonleffe  offence. 

Not  craning  eafe  for  felfe  fuftaining  woes. 

But  fauour  for  his  perfecuting  foes. 

Pleading  for  thofe  whofe  tongues  did  mofl  defame  him, 
Soliciting  for  them  that  did  accufe  him, 
Excufmg  fuch  as  wickedly  did  blame  him, 
Tendring  of  loue  where  hatred  did  refufe  him. 
Their  ordur'd  foules  feeking  fo  to  refine, 
Grace  might  reduce  them  to  celeftiall  fhine. 

E  ij  His 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

His  fute  imports,  his  holy  thoughts  did  fay, 
Inflidl  not  iuftice  on  thefe  finne-defiled, 
Vpon  my  flefh  thine  angers  burden  lay, 
Graunt  nothing  be  to  thee  vnreconfiled, 

Leaft  my  redemption  fhould  vnperfedl  feeme, 

Or  any  fmne  I  did  not  full  redeeme. 

He  would  not  haue  our  fmnes  afcend  vp  fo, 
That  they  (liould  come  vnto  his  fathers  fight, 
Nor  yet  his  fathers  vengeance  fall  fo  low, 
That  on  vs  fmne  committers  it  fhould  light. 

But  plac'd  himfelfe  betwixt  both  wrath  and  fmne, 
True  reconcilement,  by  true  loue  to  winne. 

For  Murderers  that  gainft  his  life  tranfgreffed, 
With  meekefb  loue  he  humbly  craued  grace 
For  fuch,  as  their  vile  fmne  left  vnconfeffed, 
And  flill  fpit  venome  in  their  makers  face, 

That  peirc'd  his  heart,  from  which  his  blood  abounds, 
To  them  he  giues  acquittance  for  his  wounds. 

They  to  the  Citty  would  not  backe  repaire. 
Ere  cruelty  haue  left  him  life-depriued, 
He  would  not  die,  before  his  feruent  praier, 
Intreats  to  haue  their  dying  foules  reuiued, 
His  fprite  from  forth  his  body  pall;  no  rather, 
But  forth  his  mouth  went  with  it,  Pardon  father. 



^%^SiAmen  dico  tibi^  hodie  mecum  eris 
in  Paradifo. 

\Ritly  I  fay,  that  am  heau'ns  glory  giuer, 
\To  thee  true  penitent  repentant  theefe, 
This  day,  from  a  defil'd  and  fmfull  liuer 
Shalt  thoit  be  Sainted  in  exiling  greefe, 
With  me  this  day  thou  paffeft  to  the  blefl, 
In  Paradife,  where  glorious  Angels  reft. 

Euen  at  the  wane  of  life,  the  dying  hower, 
This  happy  theefe  did  offer  God  his  heart, 
His  daies  were  dedicate  to  Sathans  power, 
Only  remain'd  one  moment  to  conuert 

Wherein  he  gaue  his  heart  to  him  that  ought  it, 
Preuenting  him  that  long  in  hope  had  fought  it. 

The  hellifh  foe  ftood  bold  vpon  his  claime, 
Becaufe  to  theeues  he  is  mifguiding  guider. 
But  heau'nly  friend  did  countermaund  the  fame 
Being  fmners  father,  Mercies  firme  prouider 
No  fooner  did  his  true  contrition  fay. 
Lord  thinke  on  me,  but  Sathan  loft  his  pray. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Caines  offering  was  a  facrifice  of  corne, 
Abels  the  Lambes,  (the  meekeft  vnto  flaughter) 
Annaes  the  fonne  that  of  her  vvombe  was  borne, 
lepthaes  his  fole  and  deere  affe(5ted  daughter, 
Noe  weathers,  Abraham  doues,  and  Daiiid  gold, 
Melchiftdech  of  wine  did  offrings  hold. 

All  thefe  did  offer  things  of  great  efteeme, 
Yet  none  fo  rich  as  this  poore  theefe  prefented. 
And  offered  heart  to  God  doth  greater  feeme. 
Then  what  by  heauen  and  earth  can  be  inuented. 
Nothing  more  gratefull  vnto  Mercies  throne, 
Then  gift  of  heart,  due  debt  to  heauen  alone. 

That  debt  of  all  the  thefts  which  he  had  donne. 
His  fatisfadtion  rightly  did  reftore. 
Repaying  in  one  hower  to  the  Sonne, 
What  all  his  life  rob'd  father  of  before. 

Obtaining  grace,  for  all  deferts  of  flrife. 

To  be  recorded  in  the  booke  of  life. 

His  wandring  courfes  are  retyr'd  from  danger, 

Vnto  the  harbour  of  a  Chriftian  reft, 

He  liu'd  to  new  lerufalem  a  ftranger. 

But  was  at  death  free  Cittizen  profeft. 

With  Chrift  on  croffe,  gaining  in  three  houres  more 
Then  ludas  did  in  yeares  for  howers  before. 



Mulier  ecce  Films  Ums. 

.Oman  true  map  of  greefes,  obiedl  of  woes, 
\Behold  thy  fonne,  finnes  heauy  burden  beares, 
774)/ vveepingeies,  Sorrows  right  methode  fhows, 
Sonne  bath'd  in  blood,  and  Mother  vvafhd  in  teares, 
A  dying  Sonne,  repleat  with  fathers  hate, 
A  penfiue  Mother  moft  difconfolate. 

Of  all  affedtions  that  the  foule  admits, 
On  which  loues  fauours  doe  moft  firmly  build. 
That  loue  in  place  of  fupreme  foundneffe  fits, 
Which  is  deriu'd  from  parent  to  the  child, 

Then  loffe  of  that  muft  needs  proue  heartieft  greefe. 
That  from  the  heart  takes  place  and  offfpring  cheefe. 

If  Dauid  lou'd  his  Abfolon  fo  well, 

That  he  with  weeping  wifhd  t'haue  died  for  him, 

Who  falfe  and  difobedient  did  rebell. 

Yet  did  his  loue  no  whit  the  more  abhorre  him, 
Or  reuerent  Jacob,  teares  aboundant  fhed. 
To  heare  his  fonnes  but  faine  their  brother  dead. 



Poems  vp07i  the  Pafsion. 

If  holy  lob  himfelfe  fo  patient  bore, 
To  giue  meeke  eare  to  many  a  greeuous  croffe, 
Deftrudlion  of  his  cattell,  flockes,  and  flore, 
Vntill  he  heard  his  deereft  childrens  loffe, 
And  then  his  greefes  extreameft  did  abound, 
Renting  his  garments,  falling  on  the  ground. 

Needs  muft  (in  mournfuU  forrow's  dire  complaints) 
The  bleffed  Virgin  farre  excell  all  other, 
What  foule  (with  dolours  euer  fo  acquaints) 
As  this  mod  carefull  comfort  wanting  Mother, 
To  fee  her  God,  life,  father,  loue  and  fonne. 
By  bitt'reft  torments  vnto  death  be  donne. 

No  earthly  loue  on  fuch  perfection  grounded. 
But  that  the  fame  may  be  defedliue  proued, 
Loue  of  the  fonne  to  mother  was  vnbounded, 
Sonne  of  the  mother,  was  the  like  beloued. 
All  power  of  Angels,  powreleffe  only  proues. 
To  weigh  or  meafure  thofe  vnmeafur'd  loues. 

Of  loue,  with  woes  by  croffe  fhe  weping  flood, 
There  fending  fighs  to  heav'n,  and  teares  to  ground. 
Of  loue,  with  paines  on  croffe  he  ftreamed  blood, 
There  death  he  conquer'd,  hell  he  did  confound. 

Such  was  his  loue  that  lou'd  when  we  were  hatefull. 
To  die  for  loue,  when  fmne  was  mod  vngratefull. 



Detis  meus.  detts  7ne^is,  vt  quid  ^,^ 

y  God({2!\di  Chrifl)  when  God  to  God  coplained, 
\My  God,  who  am  true  God  and  perfed:  man, 
IVhy  haft  thou  my  diftres'd  eftate  refrained, 
Thou  doeft  feuere  fmnes  imputation  fcan, 
Forfakeii  in  this  ftrait,  thy  felfe  bereauing, 
Me  to  afflictions  cruerft  torments  leaning. 

Vntaught  (till  now)  was  lefus  to  complaine, 
Though  infinite  the  wrongs  he  vnder-went, 
He  welcom'd  euery  torment,  greefe,  and  paine, 
Afflictions  could  not  mooue  his  difcontent, 

All  gaue  offence,  which  he  imputes  to  none, 

Only  his  father  now  accus'd  alone. 

When  violence  did  with  outrage  apprehend  him, 
His  patient  yeelding  did  moft  meekely  beare  it, 
When  blafphemies  with  taunts  of  fpight  offend  him. 
He  filent  feem'd  as  though  he  did  not  heare  it. 
In  all  the  furie  they  did  execute, 
He  ftood  like  lambe  before  the  fhearer  mute. 

F  He 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

He  not  complain'd  of  Peter  that  denide  him, 
Nor  yet  of  ludas  that  mofl  falfe  betrayde  him, 
Nor  thofe  in  Pilats  hall,  that  did  deride  him, 
Nor  graceleffe  lewes  (his  owne)  that  difobay'd  him: 
But  his  complaint  was  of  his  father  made, 
Not  meant  to  thofe  denide,  condemn'd,  betray'de. 

Gods  angry  wrath  feuerely  fet  gainft  fmne, 
(The  wares  that  Sathan  fold,  man  dearely  bought) 
With  loffe  of  grace  the  trafficke  did  beginne, 
Heau'ns  loffe,  foules  death,  hels  dome  eternall  wrought. 
That  wrath  on  Chrifts  humanity  abounded, 
Who  only  cur'd,  what  fmne  had  mortall  wounded. 

As  man  threw  fmne  at  God,  as  in  defpight, 
And  God  caft  plagues,  on  man  reuenge  to  fall, 
The  fmne  wherewith  man  gainfl  his  God  did  fight. 
And  punifhments  God  chaftned  man  withall. 

On  Chrift  (that  ftood  twixt  wrath  and  finne)  was  laid, 
He  could  not  fmne,  yet  fmners  finne  was  made. 

He  laid  our  forrowes  burden  on  his  fprite. 

When  he  indur'd  his  bitter  agonie. 

He  tooke  our  death  on  him,  wounding  deaths  might. 

When  he  on  croffe.  Deaths  conquerour  did  die. 
He  vnderwent  afflicftions  heauiefi:  loade. 
Reducing  foules  from  hell,  to  heau'ns  aboade. 



Thirft,  lift  word  on  Croffe  our  Sauiour  fpake, 
Concluding  lafl  of  greefes  he  fuffered, 
His  laft  complaint,  thirft  did  for  water  make, 
His  lafl  requeft  for  that  he  vttered, 

His  lafl  torment  was  drinke  of  bitter  gall, 

That  cruelty  offends  his  tafi;  withall. 

By  trauell  once  leauing  ludea  land, 
With  wearie  iourney  through  Samaria, 
He  crau'd  in  Sichar  at  a  womans  hand, 
Her  gift  of  water,  his  great  thirft  t'alay. 

While  fhe  on  tearmes,  delaies  and  hinderance  finds, 

Delaies  begotten  by  vnwilling  minds. 

Yet  after  publicke  in  lerufalem. 
He  did  proclaime  to  all  with  thirfl  at  ftrife, 
That  plenteoufly  he  had  to  fuccour  them, 
With  flowing  waters  to  eternall  life, 

Inuiting  come,  true  comming,  free  attaine. 
That  which  who  drinkes,  fhall  neuer  thirft  againe. 

F  ij  Such 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Such  thirft-ftaunch  riuers  he  to  thirfly  gaue, 
That  ftreames  of  grace,  heau'ns  dew  in  foules  did  fhower: 
Yet  for  his  owne  thirft,  water  he  did  craue 
At  Jacobs  well,  and  at  his  dying  hower. 
To  come  and  drinke,  he  free  inuites  all  firft, 
And  at  his  laft,  himfelfe  complaines  of  thirft. 

As  to  our  thirfty  foules  he  tendereth 

His  grace,  againft  all  deadly  thirft  defence, 

So  to  his  thirft,  foules  duty  rendereth. 

The  pureft  water  of  obedience. 

There  is  in  him,  for  which  our  wants  do  call, 
There  is  in  vs,  he  will  be  feru'd  withall. 

To  corporall  thirft  ftrong  Sampfon  once  did  yeeld, 
Vntill  the  chaw-bone  of  an  Affe  fupplide  him: 
And  Sifava  (that  vanquifti'd  loft  the  field) 
Complain'd  of  thirft,  to  her  whofe  tent  did  hide  him: 
And  holy  Dmiid  thirftie,  water  needing. 
Did  long  for  Bethlem  cefternes  moft  exceeding. 

But  different  farre  foules  thirft,  from  bodies  is, 
Vnfatisfied  with  fprings  of  worldly  taft, 
Grace  gain'd  by  Chrift,  doth  only  anfwere  this, 
A  fpirituall  fubftance,  craues  the  like  repaft, 
Thofe  foodleffe  foules,  famifht  eternall  pine, 
Which  are  vnfed  by  th'effence  pure  diuine. 



^Ven  when  the  gaule  of  odious  bitterneffe 
IWas  offered  to  our  Sauiour  on  a  reed, 
^The  bitter  drinke  of  bitter  vvickedneffe, 
The  lewifh  prefent  to  Chrifts  thirfty  need, 

To  comfort  foules  his  gracious  words  extended, 
And  founding  mercy,  vttered  All  is  ended. 

What  tongue  till  then  durfl  fuch  a  fpeech  deliuer? 
That  all  tooke  end,  which  holy  writ  foretold, 
Only  the  tongue  of  fmnes  true  ranfome  giuer, 
Was  powrefull  his  owne  mercies  power  t'vnfold. 
Holy  of  holies  moft  vprightly  fpake, 
AlVs  ended,  ending  life,  finnes  end  to  make. 

Not  Datiid,  Efay,  Jeremy,  Elias, 

Could  in  their  times  affirme  fmne  tooke  conclufion, 

They  prophecied  alluding  to  Mefsias, 

That  he  (hould  worke  the  viper  fmnes  confufion, 

And  end  his  life,  to  end  foule  fmne,  lifes  killer, 

Of  all  predictions  to  be  full  fulfiller. 

F  iij  By 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

By  vvhofe  owne  mouth  (truths  founded  euidence) 
We  heare  finnes  end,  the  old  law  fatisfied, 
How  Mercy  doth  with  luftice  dome  difpence, 
And  how  the  Judges  fonne  hath  qualified 
His  fathers  rigor,  no  way  to  be  donne, 
But  by  th'obedience  of  Gods  dying  fonne. 

The  word  AWs  ended,  notice  giues  to  all, 
By  death  of  Chrift,  the  Law  was  in  exemption, 
The  Church  began,  the  Synagogue  did  fall, 
And  man  obtained  perfect  full  redemption, 
His  reconcilement  was  with  God  effecl;ed 
To  glories  throne,  by  graces  hand  protected. 

High  Myfterie,  and  deepe  profound  diuine. 
That  God  by  man,  for  man  fliould  death  fuftaine. 
As  ftrange  a  fpeech,  if  humane  wit  define. 
He  being  man,  fhould  die  and  rife  againe. 
Yet  God  and  man,  with  God  to  end  mans  ftrife, 
From  life  to  death,  from  death  did  rife  to  life. 

Our  vlcers  curing,  captiue  flate  inlarging, 
From  Sinnes  infectious  venome,  Sathans  gaile. 
Bonds  of  damnation  canfeld,  foules  difcharging, 
Defcending  heau'n,  to  be  on  yearth  our  baile 

At  price  of  life,  with  blood  bought  and  befriended, 
Sealing  faluations  truft,  with  All  is  ended. 



_  Pater  in  mamis  Htas  commendo 
^^  ^  Spirit 2 tm  nieurn. 

.Ithblood-fpentwounds,  euenatthepointtodie, 
The  laft  bequeft  of  heauens  high  teftator, 
'Was  all  eternities  rich  Legacie, 
His  foule,  the  foule  of  mans  true  mediator, 
Vnto  his  Fathers  hands  he  did  commit, 
Yeelding  to  Death,  by  Death  to  vanquifh  it. 

The  Princely  Phrophet  on  his  dying  bed, 
Gaue  charge  vnto  his  heire  apparant  fonne, 
To  vvorke  reuenge  on  martial  1  loabs  head, 
For  murdring  deed  by  his  offence  foredone, 
T'abridge  what  nature  for  his  date  intended, 
And  cut  him  off  before  his  period  ended. 

Including  with  reuenge  of  Abners  death, 
The  wrongs  that  Simei  to  his  perfon  did. 
When  Abfoton  purfued  his  fathers  breath, 
Whofe  affe  became  his  hangman  as  he  rid, 
And  wretched  Simei  curfmg  full  of  fpight, 
Caft  ftones  at  Daitid,  with  mofh  wrath  he  might. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pa/sion. 

That  teftament  Reuenge  fet  hand  vnto, 

Impofing  vvifdomes  tutored  prince  the  taske, 

To  execute  what  he  was  willed  do 

For  fheddino-  blood,  blood-fhedders  blood  doth  aske, 
To  Salomon  this  charge  his  father  gaue, 
Let  them  not  paffe  in  peace  vnto  their  graite. 

How  different  Dauids  from  our  Sauiours  feemes? 

Whofe  will  contain'd  reuenge  for  others  ad: 

Chrift  at  his  death  forgiues,  Tinners  redeemes, 

Solicites  pardon  for  a  murdring  fadl: 

As  Danid  dies  with,  Sonne  let  thent  not  Hue, 

So  Chrifls  yeelds  breath  with.  Father  tlmn  forgitie. 

Firfl  guiltleffe  blood  to  God  moft  high  difpleafmg, 
Was  that  iuft  mans,  which  dide  by  th'hand  of  Qaine, 
Firft  guiltleffe  blood,  Gods  iuftice  cheefe  appeafmg, 
Was  that  moft  righteous,  whom  the  lewes  haue  flaine, 
And  as  the  ones  blood  was  a  foules  damnation, 
So  was  the  others  many  foules  faluation. 

The  blood  of  Abel  from  earths  bofome  cri'de, 
And  founded  luflice,  luflice,  through  the  skies. 
The  blood  of  lefus,  at  the  hower  he  di'de, 
Vnto  his  father,  Mercy,  Mercy,  cries. 
Whereby  Gods  title  of  reuenge  till  then, 
Turn'd  gracious  father  to  repentant  men. 



The  death  of  Deaths Ji7ines  Par- 
don, and  follies  Ranfome. 

Sinfull  foule,  the  caufe  of  lefus  pafsion, 
Put  forrowes  on,  and  fighing  view  thy  guilt, 
Bring  all  thy  thoughts,  fix  the  on  meditation, 
weep  drops  of  tears,  for  ftreams  of  blood  chrift 
Summon  thy  foflred  fins,  felfe-hatched  euils,  (fpilt : 
And  caft  them  low  as  hell,  they  are  the  deuils. 

Seat  vertue  riuall,  where  vfurping  vice 
Had  feaz'd  for  Sathan  to  poffeffe  thy  heart, 
And  though  the  traitor  flefh  from  grace  intice, 
Yet  yeeld  thy  fauiour  his  deere  purchaft  part. 

The  greateft  loue  that  heav'n  or  earth  dooth  know, 
Did  heav'ns  free-loue  on  hels  bond-flaues  beftow. 

He  left  his  fathers  glorious  right-hand  feat, 
To  Hue  euen  where  his  earthly  footftoole  ftands, 
Vnmou'd  thereto  by  our  fubmiffe  intreat, 
No  fuite  of  clay  obtain'd  it  at  his  hands. 

No  power  in  vs,  no  humane  will  that  fought  it, 
It  was  his  loue,  grace  freely  giuen  wrought  it. 




Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

O  loiie  of  foules,  deaths  vidlor,  true  life-giuer, 

What  charitie  did  ouercome  thee  fo, 

To  die,  that  man  might  be  eternall  liuer, 

Being  thine  aduerfe  difobedient  foe? 

For  friends  if  one  fhould  die,  were  rarely  much. 
But  die  for  foes,  the  world  affoords  none  fuch? 

An  ignominious  death,  in  fhames  account, 
Of  odious  cenfure,  and  contempts  difgrace, 
On  Caluarie,  a  ftincking  dunghill  Mount, 
For  murderers  the  common  fatall  place. 

There  di'de  the  Angels  brightneffe,  God  and  man, 
There  death  was  vanquifht,  and  true  life  began. 

Yet  there  began  not  lefus  fuffering. 
Nor  in  the  garden  with  his  foules  vexation: 
There  he  performd  victorious  conquering, 
His  life  was  nothing  els  but  ftintleffe  pafsion. 
From  cratch  to  croffe,  hee  trod  a  painefull  path, 
Betwixt  our  guilt,  and  Gods  reuengefull  wrath. 

What  paines,  their  paines  to  lefus  not  impart.^ 
What  moment  tortures  want  did  he  indure.^ 
What  anguifli  addes  not  to  his  greened  heart  .^ 
What  minute  was  he  forrowleffe,  fecure.^ 

What  age,  wherein  his  troubles  were  negledled  ? 

What  people,  but  his  death  cheefly  affe(il;ed  ? 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

In  eies  he  fuffred  monefull  fhowres  of  teares, 
His  face  had  fpittings  and  difpightfull  blowes, 
Blafphemous  fpeech  vpbraid  his  facred  eares, 
Mofl  loathfome  carrion  ftinckes  entred  his  nofe, 
Gaule  in  his  mouth,  the  holieft  hands  were  bound, 
Hands,  feet,  heart,  head,  were  nailed,  pierc'd  &crownd. 

From  his  birth-hower,  vntill  his  life-loft  blood. 
What  moment  paft  wherein  hee  did  not  merite? 
What  minute  fcap'd  imploiment  vnto  good, 
Who  did  implore  his  grace,  and  he  deferre  it? 
How  painfully  his  preaching  fpent  the  day. 
How  watchfully  his  nights  were  houres  to  pray. 

Whom  taught  this  Truth,  that  him  for  truth  beleeued  ? 

Though  truth  without  his  prefence  ne're  was  knowne? 

With  whom  did  he  conuerfe  and  was  vngreeued  ? 

How  ill  intreated  euen  amongft  his  owne? 

Though  foxe  and  bird  could  find  both  hole  and  neft, 
Where  found  his  head,  repofed  place  for  reft? 

Pouertie  hee  indured  in  the  manger,  ^ 

Warre  with  the  tempter  in  the  wilderneffe. 
Exile  in  ^gypt,  forc'd  by  tirants  danger, 
And  on  the  way  o're-painfull  wearineffe, 
In  all  his  fpeech  and  adlions,  contradidlions 
Laden  with  wrongs,  burdned  with  dire  afflidlions. 

G  ij  With 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsioji. 

With  hungers  fword  food-giuer  was  acquainted, 
And  that  the  ftone-prefenting  deuill  faw, 
At  Jacobs  well  with  thirft  he  wel-nie  fainted, 
While  pinching  woman  flood  on  tearmes  to  draw/ 

All  wants  and  woes  impos'd  vpon  him  ftill, 

And  his  obedience  fuffered  euery  ill. 

Traitor-led  troopes  by  night  did  apprehend  him, 
Haling  him  cruell  to  the  iudgement  hall. 
Where  all  inflided  torments  did  offend  him, 
And  mockeries  to  greeue  his  foule  withall, 

There  fudge  was  iudg'd,  king  fcorned,  prieft  abus'd, 

And  of  all  luft,  the  luft  vniuflly  vs'd. 

Thence  to  his  death,  with  clamours,  fhouts,  and  cries, 
Theeues  at  his  fide,  the  torturing  hangman  by  him, 
His  croffe  (his  burden)  borne  before  his  eies, 
Hart-launcing  Longius,  the  Centurion  nie  him, 
His  friends  aloofe  inuiron'd  round  with  foes, 
Thus  vnto  death,  foules  loue,  fweet  lefus  goes. 

Vid:orioufly  vpon  the  dunghill  field, 
He  manag'd  combate  with  the  roaring  Lion, 
Old  ferpent,  death  and  hell  at  once  did  yeeld. 
All  vanquiflit  by  triumphant  lambe  of  Sion, 

Performing  in  that  glorious  bloodie  fight. 

The  euer  conqueft  of  infernall  might. 


«w..  ^  77/^  wonders  at  Chrifts  death,  ^/^ 

.Hat  inftant  hower  the  worlds  Redeemer  di'de, 
jAnd  breathed  out  his  foule  vpon  the  croffe, 
Heav'ns  glorious  lampe,  abating  all  his  pride, 
Bewail'd  in  blacke  his  murdred  makers  loffe, 
Turning  his  fplendant  beames  of  gold,  to  droffe; 
The  Moone  like  futed  in  a  fable  weed, 
Mourned  for  fmnes  outragious  bloody  deed. 

When  lofua  (Ifraels  valiant  captaine)  praid, 
And  in  his  praier  coniuring  did  command 
The  firmaments  bright  eie  ftand  fhill,  it  ftaid 
Till  he  was  viclor  of  the  wickeds  band, 
Waighting  vpon  Gods  battaile  then  in  hand, 
Yeelding  the  richeft  treafure  of  his  light, 
Lengthning  the  want  of  day  with  day-made  night. 

But  here,  reflecting  light  to  darkefome  change, 
Shaming  to  fee  what  fhameleffe  fmne  had  done, 
Was  more  admir'd  to  alter  kind  fo  ftrange, 
Then  when  he  ceas'd  his  pofting  courfe  to  run, 

G  iij  Loue 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion: 

Loue  to  Gods  forces,  his  bright  flaying  vvonne, 
But  now  beholding  Sathans  power  preuailing, 
He  turn'd  the  day  to  night,  in  darkneffe  wailing. 

At  death  of  Chrifl,  appear'd  foure  fignes  of  wonder, 
To  euidence  diuine  and  God-like  might, 
The  firft:  The  temples  vaile  did  rent  in  funder, 
Next,  Sunne  and  Moone  extinguiflit  both  their  light, 
Affoording  darkneffe  to  blind  lewifh  fight: 

Then  flintie  ftones  deuiding,  part  in  twaine; 

And  Saints  from  graues  reuiv'd  to  life  againe. 

What  faithleffe  lew  or  graceleffe  Atheift  can 
With  impious  tongue,  found  out  blafphemous  breath, 
Affirming  Chrift  to  be  but  only  Man, 
VVhofe  dietie,  wrought  wonders  after  death, 
Wonders  in  heauen,  ftrange  miracles  on  earth? 
Of  each  beholders  heart,  feare  tooke  poffefsion, 
And  taught  the  Pagan  captain  Truths  confefsion. 

Thou  canfl  not  fay  thofe  workes  were  Magickes  art, 
From  flaunders  charge,  Chrifts  power  diuine  is  free, 
His  foule  was  fled,  and  did  before  depart, 
His  liueleffe  bodie  euery  eie  did  fee. 
No  charming  words  by  dead  tongues  vttred  be, 
Thou  muft  of  force  confeffe  true  God-head  by  it. 
Or  fay  that  Mallice  wilfull  doth  denie  it. 



The  Ftmerals  of  lefits.         a  n^r^t 

.Hen  lofephs  fuite  had  got  the  ludges  leaue, 
To  take  fweet  lefus  from  the  bloodie  croffe, 
'  VVhofe  bleffed  life  lewes  blindneffedid  bereaue, 
To  our  eternall  gaine,  their  endleffe  loffe: 
Chrifts  night-difciple  aidfull  did  agree, 
To  take  his  bodie  from  that  guiltie  tree. 

The  Virgine  mother  cheefe  in  mournefull  teares, 
With  holy  Maries  twaine  that  ftintleffe  wept, 
To  Caluarie  both  fheet  and  odours  beares, 
There  mufi;  the  facred  funerall  be  kept, 

Who  hearts  did  loue,  him  with  their  feet  they  fought, 
Teares  in  their  eies,  hands  myrrhe  and  aloes  brought. 

Their  greefes  and  labours  they  deuide  in  parts. 
Partaking  each  t'affoord  fome  needfull  thing. 
True  faith  and  loue,  was  feated  in  their  hearts, 
On  fhoulders  ladders,  amies  the  fhroud  doe  bring, 
Their  hands  haue  ointments,  eies  with  teares  abounds, 
Teares  well  imploi'd  to  wafh  his  bloodie  wounds. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

With  tired  fteps  they  ouertooke  the  place, 
Where  ftore  of  weeping  dew  moiflned  the  ground, 
The  Sunne  was  hid,  nights  darke  approcht  apace, 
Greefes  did  furprife,  dolours  increafe  abound, 
Whom  infidels  nail'd  vp,  did  pierce  and  crowne, 
Faithfull,  from  Croffe,  ad:  holy  taking  downe. 

Before  the  fame  (to  figne  a  perfect  zeale) 
They  cafi:  themfelues  fo  low  as  earth  gaue  leaue, 
In  reuerence  of  thofe  wounds  that  only  heale 
All  feauer'd  foules,  blood-falue  from  thence  receaue; 
Which  worfhip  well  perform'd,  they  fighing  rife. 
And  towards  the  croffe  all  guide  plaint-pouring  eies. 

The  honourable  two  old  aged  men, 
Aduis'd  the  reft  refpedt  what  fcanting  time 
Remain'd  to  annoint,  and  fhroud,  and  burie,  then 
Their  ladders  raifmg,  vp  the  croffe  they  clime; 
Teares,  fighs,  and  fobs,  defcend  ech  ftep  they  goe, 
While  eies  (wet  Orators)  repli'de  below. 

On  Jacobs  ladder  ioifull  Angels  fmg, 
No  iarre  their  heav'nly  muficke  did  reftraine, 
On  lofcpJis  ladder  teares  to  top  they  bring, 
And  mournefull  fobs  fend  forrowes  downe  againe, 
Thofe  heav'nly  quires  partake  no  tunes  like  this, 
Chrifts  bitter  death,  was  faultie  mans  amiffe. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsmi. 

When  hands  and  feet  they  carefull  did  vn-naile, 
Letting  the  body  downe  conieal'd  in  gore, 
This  was  the  obiedt,  Vifage  wan  and  pale: 
Eies  turnd  in  heady  his  fle/Ji  all  rent  and  tore, 

Scull  boar ed  t J irottgh,  t homes  fpurting  out  hisbraines, 
Bones  out  of  ioint,  and  full  of  broken  values. 

Vpon  the  ground  the  holy  corpes  being  laid, 
Mod  reuer'nt  where  the  fhrouding  fheet  was  fpred, 
His  bleffed  Mother  full  of  woes  difmaid, 
Renew'd  her  plaints  with  fhowers  of  teares  fhe  fned/ 
Whom  ludas  fold  for  thirty  pence  aliue, 
To  buy  him  dead,  her  pearled  drops  did  flriue. 

The  taske  of  Sorrowes  equall  to  deuide, 
At  lefus  head  laments  his  penfme  mother, 
lofeph  with  Nichodenms  at  one  fide. 
And  both  the  Maries  place  them  at  the  other, 

Thus  bout  the  mangled  corpes  thefe  mourners  ftands 
With  teares  in  eies,  with  ointments  in  their  hands. 

When  kneeling  round,  the  bodie  they  inclofe, 
Prepar'd  with  baulme,  and  readie  to  annoint  it, 
Viewing  blew  wales,  that  came  of  lewifh  blowes. 
Rupture  of  nailes,  wan  flefh,  how  they  difioint  it: 

Compafsion,  pittie,  loue,  with  true  remorfe, 

Inuited  all  their  eies  to  wafh  the  corfe. 

H  Their 


Poems  vpon  tJie  PafsioJi. 

Their  knees  with  humble  feruice  loAvly  bowing, 
Their  hands  embaulme  him,  wounded,  rent  and  tore, 
Their  eies  no  mangled  part  vnwafht  allowing, 
Their  hearts  with  worfhip,  God  and  man  adore, 
Both  knees  and  hands,  with  hearts  and  watry  eies, 
All  forrow  laden,  tir'd  with  fighs  and  cries. 

For  deepe-made  wounds,  and  torturing  cruell  blowes. 
No  fmall  expence  of  ointments  could  fufhfe: 
But  bountie  on  that  holy  worke  beftowes 
Plentie  of  odours  in  fuch  liberall  wife, 
Their  baulme  to  couer  him  inough  had  bin, 
And  teares  might  ferue  to  haue  baptis'd  him  in. 

His  glorious  bodie  fhrouded  in  the  fheet 
On  which  to  be  embaulmed  they  did  lay  him, 
With  binding  clothes,  wrapt  whole  from  head  to  feet, 
To  be  inter'd,  his  feruant  Saints  conuay  him 
Only  in  armes  good  lefus  dead  they  haue. 
Within  their  hearts  he  Hues  being  borne  to  graue. 

O  mournefull  trod,  where  comforts  paths  are  failing. 
Deaths  bed  muft  haue  eternall  life  in  keeping, 
lofepJi  goes  fighing,  Magdalen  bewailing, 
Ther's  loJin  laments,  and  Nicliodenius  weeping. 
The  bleffed  virgins  eies  like  fountaines  run, 
Left  wo  full  widdow  to  her  murdred  fon. 



Poems  vpo)i  the  Pa/sion. 

What  pens  report  can  tell  her  forrowing  heart 
That  faw  her  fonne,  the  only  of  her  vvombe, 
Before  her  eies  pay  death,  rnans  foule  defert, 
And  with  her  armes  afsift  him  to  the  tombe  ? 

What  forrowes  mappe  like  forrow  ere  exprefl? 

What  eies  like  teares,  what  teares  like  greefes  profeft. 

Her  liquid  eies  ftroue  each  t'exceed  the  other, 
By  fighs  her  mone,  by  teares  her  woe  appeares, 
She  weepes,  yet  is  the  mirth  of  heav'ns  mother, 
Virgine  in  office,  young  in  tender  yeares. 

Filled  with  grace,  eternities  Princeffe, 

Excelling  in  perfe(5lions  holineffe. 

O  Sunne  whofe  fliine  is  heav'ns  eternall  bright, 
Of  funerall  pompe  why  art  thou  deftitute, 
Borne  to  thy  graue,  without  one  candles  light, 
Or  Clergie,  night  precedent  inftitute: 

Thy  birth  was  frniple,  void  of  worldly  pride; 

And  in  thy  buriall,  coft  was  laid  afide. 

Oh  heav'ns  riches,  mercies  fountaine  head, 
When  thou  waft  borne,  no  houfe  thy  parents  haue, 
Thy  life  was  poore,  thy  death  without  a  bed. 
Thy  buriall  was  in  lofepJis  borrowed  graue. 

Thou  didft  indure  our  paines,  fmnes  purchafe,  hell; 

Thou  louedft  foules,  loft  foules,  fo  wondrous  well. 

H    ij  Though 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsioii. 

Though  Salomon  was  Ifraels  crowne  fucceffour, 
And  gain'd  his  kingly  fathers  ftate  and  throne; 
Of  Dauids  mercy  feemes  he  no  pofleffour, 
Funerall  cod,  or  teares  we  read  of  none: 
But  Scriptures  recommend  the  honour  done 
In  Jacobs  buriall,  by  his  gratefull  fonne. 

The  great  Prieft  Simon  caufed  to  bee  made, 

A  monument  of  curious  carued  ftones, 

Wherein  his  bodie  after  life  was  laid, 

And  eke  his  brethren  Machabes  their  bones; 
But  tombe  for  Chrift  was  in  his  life  vnknowne, 
And  for  him  dead  his  mother  knew  of  none. 

No  earthly  care,  foules  loue  to  him  was  fweeter, 
When  vnto  lohn  the  virgine  was  commended, 
His  enemies  to  Mercie,  church  to  Peter, 
His  foule  to  Father,  faying  All  is  ended : 
No  fpeech  he  vs'd,  nor  any  order  gaue 
For  coftly  i"unerals  or  a  fumptuous  graue. 

With  greefes,  attaining  to  the  garden  place. 
From  which  oft  ftaies  to  weepe  and  wipe  did  let, 
Penfiue  diftreft,  in  moft  perplexed  cafe, 
The  flirouding  fheet  all  moiftned,  flacke  and  wet 
(Not  with  the  dew  defcending  from  the  skies) 
With  teares  that  rained  from  their  fhouring  eies. 



Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Oh  glorious  hearbes  this  garden  plot  did  beare, 
Oh  holy  ground  trod  in  this  iournies  paines, 
Not  for  the  oile  of  Oliues  growing  there, 
But  fanctified  by  blood  from  lefus  vaines, 

O  earth  whereon  true  loue  and  greefes  combine, 
Blood  from  the  fonne,  teares  from  the  mothers  eyen. 

The  tombe  prepar'd  wherein  hee  fhould  bee  laid. 
From  which  although  great  paine  the  ftone  remooued, 
Yet  farre  exceed  the  fuites  intreatie  made 
Before  his  mother  yeelds  her  deere  beloued. 
Still  they  folicite,  ftill  her  loues  denie  him, 
Vntill  on  knees  with  price  of  teares,  they  buy  him. 

The  brothers  fonne  intreats  his  holie  aunt, 
Perfuafme  reafoning  humbly  dooth  befeech, 
Times  breuitie,  good  Ladie,  mooues  your  graunt, 
Let  eies  doe  more  with  teares  then  tongues  with  fpeech : 
Vpon  detaining,  now  no  longer  ftand, 
Darke  fable  night  leads  dangers  by  the  hand. 

If  foes  fhould  wrong  vs,  bootleffe  we  to  ftriue, 
How  can  poore  three  our  Lords  dead  corfe  defend, 
Twelue  could  not  guard  him  when  he  was  aliue, 
Giue  licenfe  this  laft  feruice  take  an  end. 

Much  troubles  ceafe,  when  by  free  will  is  done. 
That  which  conflraint  well  nere  difpence  to  fhunne. 

H  iij  Thou 


Poems  vpon  the  Pafsion. 

Thou  friend  of  God  incline  to  vs  at  length, 
Let  our  vveake  words  o'recome  thy  loues  the  ftronger, 
Our  hearts  want  comforts,  all  our  members  flrength, 
Our  teares  are  fpent,  eies  dri'de  can  weepe  no  longer 
Sorrow  that  holds  vs  for  her  lawfull  prize, 
Hath  left  not  one  poore  teare  to  taske  our  eies. 

Wearie  with  importunitie  and  weeping, 
A  moft  vnwilling  leaue  the  Virgine  gaue, 
Yeelding  her  fonne  to  the  fepulchres  keeping, 
Her  fweeteft  loue  to  deaths  moft  bitter  graue, 

Like  as  from  Golgotha,  they  brought  him  thether. 
All  helpe,  all  figh,  all  put  him  in  together. 

Thus  being  laid  into  his  bed  of  ftone, 
By  liquid  eies,  and  hearts  of  forrowing  flefh, 
Inftead  of  earth  their  teares  were  poured  on, 
A  laft  farewell  greefes  cefternes  yeeld  afrefh: 
There  left  they  lefus  that  fmnes  burden  beares, 
Wept,  wrapt,  annointed,  bath'd  in  ftreames  of  teares. 







With  a  new  Moriffco,  daunced  by 
feauen  Sa^yres,vpon  the  bottome 

oiDiogines  Tubbe. 


Printed  by  ^^.  WhiteiorW.F. 



MEN     RE  A  DERS. 

TIJ'  Vmours,  is  late  croivjid  king  of  Caiieeleres, 

^  ^  Fantaftique-folHes,  gracd  with  comino7i  fmioiir : 

Ciuilitie,  hatJi  feriicd  out  his yccres, 

And  fcornetJi  noiv  to  ivaitc  on  Good-behauour. 

Gallants,  like  Richard  tJie  vfurper,  fivaggcr, 

That  had  his  hand  continnall  on  his  dagger. 

Fafliions  is  Jiill  confort  luith  new  fond  JJiapes, 
And  feedeth  dayly  vpon  flrangc  difguife: 
WefJievv  onr  felues  the  imitating  Apes 
Of  all  the  toyes  that  Strangers  heads  denife; 
For  titer's  no  habitc  of  hell-hatehed  finne, 
That  we  delis^ht  not  to  be  clothed  in. 

Some  fweare,  as  though  they  Starres  from  heauen  could  piil. 
And  all  their  fpeach  is poynted  with  thejiabbe, 

When  all  men  know  it  isfome  coward  gull, 
That  is  but  champion  to  a  Shorditch  drabbe; 

Whofe  feather  is  his  heads  lightnes-proclaymer, 
AlthougJi  he  feeme  fame  mightie  monfter  tamer. 

A  2.  Epi- 

To  the  Gentlemen  Readers. 

Epicurifme,  cares  not  /low  lie  lines, 
But  Jlill purfiietJi  brutijli  Appetite. 
Difdaine,  regardes  not  zvhat  ahiife  he  giues; 
Careleffe  of  ivronges,  and  vnregarding  right. 
Selfe-louc  {they  fay)  to  felfe-eonceite  is  zued, 
By  which  bafe  match  are  zglie  vices  bred. 

Pride,  rends  like  the  royfling  Prodigall, 
Streching  his  credite  that  his  parfsc-flringes  cracke, 
Vntill  ill  fame  difircsfull  layle  lie  fall, 
Which  zuore  of  late  a  Lordfhip  on  his  backe: 
Where  he  till  death  mufl  lie  in  paiujie  for  debt, 
"  Griefes  night  is  neare,  when  pleafures  funne  is  fet. 

Vaunting,  JiatJi  got  a  niigJitie  tJiundring  voyce, 
Lookifig  that  all  men  fliould  applaudc  his  fonndes 
His  deedes  are  finguler,  his  ivordes  be  choyce ; 
On  earth  his  equall  is  not  to  be  founde. 
Thus  Vertu's  Jiid,  with  Follies  iuggling  mifi, 
A  nd  /lee's  no  man,  t/iat  is  no  Humourifl. 



f~^  Ood  honejl  Poets,  let  me  crane  a  boone, 
^"^  That  y OIL  zvoiild  write,  I  do  not  care  Jiozv  foone, 
Againjl  the  bajlard  Jmmours  Jiozverly  bred^ 
In  euery  7nad  brain  d,  ivit-ivorne,  giddie  head: 
At  fiich  grofse  follies  do  not  fit  and  wincke, 
Belabour  tJiefe  fame  Gidles  zvitJi  pen  and  incke. 
You  fee  foine  striue  for  f aire  hand-writing  fame, 
As  Peeter  Bales  his  figne  can  prone  the  fame, 
Gracing  his  credite  zuith  a  golden  Pen : 
I  woidd  haue  VoQts prone  more  taller  men: 
In  perfeSl  Letters  refted  his  contention, 
But yoiirs  coiifi/Vs  in  Wits  cJioyce  rare  inuention. 
Will  yoic  fiand  f pending  your  Inuentions  treaftre, 
To  teach  Stage  parrets  fpeake  for  pennie pleafnre, 
While  you  your  felues  like  muficke  founding  Lutes 
fretted  and  ftrunge,  gaine  them  their  filken  futes. 
Leaue  Cupids  cut,  Womens  face flatf  ring praife, 
Loues  fubie6l  growes  too  thredbare  now  adayes. 
Change  Venus  Swannes,  to  zurite  of  Vulcans  Geefe, 
And  you  fJiall  merite  Golden  pennes  a  peece. 


A  3. 

Mirth pleafetli  fome ;  to  otJiars  tts  offence: 
Sojne  zi'iJJi  f  hanc  follies  tolde;  fonie  dijlike  that: 
Some  comcnd  plaine  conceites,  fome  profound  fence: 
And  mofl  ivould  haue,  themf clues  know  not  what. 
Then  he  that  ivould pleafe  all,  and  him  felfe  too. 
Takes  more  in  hand,  tJien  he  is  like  to  doo. 


EPIG.  I. 

MOnfieur  Domingo  is  a  skilfull  man, 
For  much  experience  he  hath  lately  got, 
Prouing  more  Phificke  in  an  Alehoufe  can. 
Then  may  be  found  in  any  Vintners  pot. 
Beere  he  proteftes  is  fodden  and  refin'd, 
But  this  he  fpeakes,  being  fmgle  penny  lyn'd. 

For  when  his  Purfe  is  fwolne  but  fix-pence  bigge. 

Why  then  he  fweares ;  Now  by  the  Lord  I  thinke, 

All  Beere  in  Europe  is  not  worth  a  figge : 

A  cuppe  of  Clarret  is  the  onely  drinke. 

And  thus  his  praife  from  Beere  to  Wine  doth  goe, 

Euen  as  his  Purfe  in  pence  doth  ebbe  and  flowe. 

A  4. 



EPIG.  2.     BOREAS. 

TlJAng  him  bafc  gull;  He  ftabbe  him  by  the  Lord, 

If  he  prefume  to  fpeake  but  halfe  a  word : 
He  paunch  the  villian  with  my  Rapiers  poynt, 
Or  heaw  him  with  my  Fatchon  ioynt  by  ioyiit. 
Through  both  his  cheeks  my  Ponniard  he  fhal  haue 
Or  Mincepie-like  He  mangle  out  the  flaue. 
Aske  who  I  am,  you  whorfon  freife-gowne  patch  .^ 
Call  mee  before  the  Conftable,  or  Watch  ? 
Cannot  a  Captaine  walkc  the  Oueenes  high-way? 
Swones,  Who  de  fpeake  to?  Know  ye  villions,  ha? 
You  drunken  peffants,  run's  your  tongs  on  wheeles? 
Long  you  to  fee  your  guttes  about  your  heeles? 
Doeft  loue  me  Tom?  let  go  my  Rapier  then, 
Perfwade  me  not  from  killing  nine  or  ten : 
I  care  no  more  to  kill  them  in  braueado, 
Then  for  to  drinke  a  pipe  of  Trinedado. 
My  minde  to  patience  neuer  will  reftore-mee, 
Vntill  their  blood  do  gufli  in  ftreames  before-mee. 
Thus  doth  Sir  Launcdot  in  his  drunken  flagger, 
Sweare,  curfe,  &  raile,  threaten,  protefb,  &  fwagger: 
But  be'ing  next  day  to  fober  anfwere  brought, 
Hees  not  the  man  can  breede  fo  bafe  a  thought. 



EPIG.  3. 

When  Thrafo  meets  his  friend,  he  fweares  by  God, 
Vnto  his  Chamber  he  fliall  welcome  be : 
Not  that  hee'le  cloy  him  there  with  roft  or  fod, 
Such  vulgar  diet  with  Cookes  fliops  agree : 
But  hee'le  prefent  mofl  kinde,  exceeding  franke 
The  beft  TabaccOy  that  he  euer  dranke. 

Such  as  himfelfe  did  make  a  voyage  for, 

And  with  his  owne  hands  gatherd  from  the  ground ; 

All  that  which  other  fetch,  he  doth  abhor. 

His,  grew  vpon  an  Hand  neuer  found. 

Oh  rare  compound,  a  dying  Horfe  to  choke. 

Of  EngliJJi  fyer,  and  of  India  fmoke. 



EPIG.  4. 

Who  feekes  to  pleafe  all  men  each  way, 
And  not  himfelfe  ofTende, 
He  may  begin  his  worke  to  day, 
But  God  knowes  when  hee'le  ende. 




EPIG.  5. 

Alas,  Delfridus  keepes  his  bed  God  knowes, 
Which  is  a  figne  his  worfhips  very  ill: 
His  griefe  beyond  the  grounds  of  Phificke  goes ; 
No  Do6lor  that  comes  neare  it  with  his  skill, 
Yet  doth  he  eate,  drinke,  talke,  &  fleepe  profound, 
Seeming  to  all  mens  Judgements  healthfull  found. 

Then  geffe  the  caufe  he  thus  to  bed  is  drawne. 
What?  thinke  you  fo;  may  fuch  a  happe  procure  it? 
Well;  fayth  t'is  true,  his  Hofe  are  out  at  pawne, 
A  Breetchleffe  chaunce  is  come,  he  muft  indure  it: 
His  Hofe  to  Brokers  layle  committed  are, 
His  fmguler,  and  onely,  Veluet  payre. 



EPIG.  6. 

Diogifies  one  day  through  Athens  went, 
With  burning  Torch  in  Sun-fhine :  his  intent 
Was  (as  he  fayd)  fome  honeft  man  to  finde : 
For  fuch  were  rare  to  meete,  or  he  was  blinde. 
One  late,  might  haue  done  well  like  light  t'haue  got 
That  fought  his  Wife;  met  her,  and  knew  her  not: 
But  ftay,  cry  mercy,  fhe  had  on  her  Maske, 
How  could  his  eyes  performe  their  fpying  taske.^ 
T'is  very  true,  t'was  hard  for  him  to  doo. 
By  Sunne,  and  Torch ;  let  him  take  Lant-home  too. 




EPIG.  7. 

Speake  Gentlemen,  what  fhall  we  do  to  dayf 

Drinke  fome  braue  health  vpon  the  Dutch  caroufe.' 

Or  fhall  we  go  to  the  Globe  and  fee  a  Playf 

Or  vifit  Shor ditch,  for  a  bawdie  houfef 

Lets  call  for  Gardes  or  Dice,  and  haue  a  Game, 

To  fit  thus  idle,  is  both  fmne  and  fhame. 

This  fpeakes  Sir  Reuell,  furnifht  out  with  Fafhion, 
From  difh-crown'd  Hat,  vnto  th'  Shooes  fquare  toe. 
That  haunts  a  Whore-houfe  but  for  recreation. 
Playes  but  at  Dice  to  connycatch,  or  fo. 
Drinkes  drunke  in  kindnes,  for  good  fellowfhip: 
Or  to  the  Play  goes  but  fome  Purfe  to  nip. 




EPIG.  8. 

Sir  gall-lade,  is  a  Horfeman  e'ry  day, 

His  Bootes  and  Spurres  and  Legges  do  neuer  part: 

He  rides  a  Horfe  as  pasfing  cleane  away, 

As  any  that  goes  Tyburne-warde  by  cart : 

Yet  honefbly  he  payes  for  Hacknyes  hyer: 

But  hang  them  lades,  he  fell's  them  when  they  tyer. 

He  liues  not  like  Diogines,  on  Rootes : 

But  prooues  a  Mince-pie  gueft  vnto  his  Hoft, 

He  fcornes  to  walke  in  Panics  without  his  Bootes. 

And  fcores  his  dyet  on  the  Vitlers  poft : 

And  when  he  knowes  not  where  to  haue  his  dinner 

He  fafles,  and  fweares,  A  glutton  is  a  fmne. 




EPIG.  9.     Drudo. 

This  Gentleman  hath  ferued  long  in  Frainice, 
And  is  returned  filthy  full  of  French, 
In  fingle  combat,  being  hurt  by  chaunce, 
As  he  was  clofely  foyling  at  a  Wench : 
Yet  hot  alarmes  he  hath  endur'd  good  ftore, 
But  neuer  in  like  pockie  heate  before. 

He  had  no  fooner  drawne,  and  ventred  ny-her. 
Intending  onely  but  to  haue  a  bout, 
When  fhe  his  Flaske  aud  Touch-boxe  fet  on  fyer, 
And  till  this  hower  the  burning  is  not  out. 
Judge,  was  not  valour  in  this  Martiall  wight. 
That  with  a  fpit-fier  Serpent  fo  durft  fight. 




E  P  I  G.  10.  In  Meritricern. 

TI^Ayth  Gentleman,  you  moue  me  to  offence, 
In  comming  to  me  with  vnchaft  pretence. 
Haue  I  the  lookes  of  a  lafciuious  Dame, 
That  you  fhould  deeme  me  fit  for  wantons  game.^ 
I  am  not  fhee  will  take  luftes  finne  vpon-her. 
He  rather  die,  then  dimme  chaft  glorious  honour. 
Temp't  not  mine  eares;  an  grace  of  Chrift  I  meane 
To  keepe  my  honeft  reputation  cleane." 
My  hearing  let's  no  fuch  lewd  found  come  in, 
My  fenfes  loath  to  furfet  on  fweete  fmne. 
Reuerfe  your  minde,  that  goes  from  grace  aflray, 
And  God  forgiue  you,  with  my  hart  I  pray. 
The  Gallant  notes  her  words,  obferues  her  frown's. 
Then  drawes  his  purfe,  &  lets  her  view  his  crown's, 
Vowing,  that  if  her  kindnes  graunt  him  pleafure, 
Shee  fhalbe  Miftris  to  commaund  his  treafure. 
The  ftormes  are  calm'd,  the  guft  is  ouer-blowne. 
And  fhe  replyes  with :    Yours,  or  not  her  owne. 
Defiring  him  to  cenfure  for  the  beft, 
Twa's  but  her  tricke  to  try  if  men  do  ieft : 
Her  Loue  is  lock'd  where  he  may  picke  the  truncke. 
Let  Singer  iudge  if  this  be  not  a  puncke. 




EPIG.  I  I. 

Polletique  Peeter  meetes  his  friend  a  fhore, 
That  came  from  Seas  but  newly  tother  day: 
And  giues  him  French  embracements  by  the  fcore, 
Then  followes:  Dicke,  Haft  made  good  voyage,  fay? 
But  hearing  Richards  fhares  be  poore  and  ficke, 
Peeter  ha's  hafte,  and  cannot  drinke  with  Dicke. 

Well,  then  he  meetes  an  other  Caualeere, 
Whom  he  falutes  about  the  Knees  and  Thighes : 
welcome  fweet  lames,  now  by  the  Lord  what  cheere 
Ner'e  better  Peeter,  We  haue  got  riche  prize. 
Come,  come  (fayes  Peeter)  eu'en  a  welcome  quart, 
For  by  my  fayth,  weele  drinke  before  wee  part. 

Or  thus: 
Fayth,  we  muft  drinke,  that's  flat,  before  we  part. 





EPIG.  12. 

Fine  Phillip  comes  vnto  the  Barbers  fhopp, 
Wheer's  nittie  lockes  muft  fufifer  reformation. 
The  Chayre  and  Cufhion  entertaine  his  flopp: 
The  Barber  craues  to  know  his  Worfhips  fafhion. 
His  will  is,  Shauen;  for  his  beard  is  thin, 
It  was  fo  lately  banifh'd  from  his  chin. 

But  fhaueing  oft  will  helpe  it,  he  doth  hope, 
And  therfore  for  the  fmooth-face  cut  he  calles : 
Then  fie;  thefe  cloathes  are  wafht  Avith  common 
Why  doft  thou  vfe  fuch  ordnarie  balles.''     (fope. 
I  fcorne  this  common  trimming  like  a  Boore, 
Yet  with  his  hart  he  loues  a  common  whoore. 




EPIG.    I  3. 

Signieiir  Fantastike. 

I  fcorue  to  meet  an  enemie  in  feeelde, 
Except  he  be  a  Souldier:  (by  this  light) 
I  Hkewife  fcorne,  my  reafon  for  to  yeelde : 
Yea  further,  I  do  well  nigh  fcorne  to  fight 
Moreouer,  I  do  fcorne  to  be  fo  vaine, 
To  drawe  my  Rapier,  and  put  vp  againe. 

I  eke  do  fcorne  to  walke  without  my  man, 
Yea,  and  I  fcorne  good  morrow  and  good  deane: 
I  alfo  fcorne  to  touch  an  Ale-houfe  cann, 
Therto  I  fcorne  an  ordinarie  Oueane. 
Thus  doth  he  fcorne,  difdainfull,  proude,  and  grim, 
All  but  the  Foole  only,  he  fcornes  not  him. 

B  2. 




EPIG.  14. 

Some  do  account  it  golden  lucke, 
They  may  be  Widdow-fped,  for  mucke. 
Boyes  on  whofe  chinnes  no  downe  appeares, 
Marry  olde  Croanes  of  threefcore  yeares : 
But  they  are  fooles  to  Widowes  cleaue, 
Let  them  take  that  which  Maydes  do  leaue. 



EPIG.  I  5. 

Amorous  Aujiin  fpendes  much  Balleting, 

In  rimeing  Letters,  and  loue  Sonnetting.  (her, 

She  that  loues  him,  his  Ynckehorne  fliall  be  paint- 

And  with  all  Venus  tytles  hee'le  acquaint  her: 

Vowing  fhe  is  a  perfe6l  Angell  right, 

When  fhe  by  waight  is  many  graines  too  light : 

Nay  all  that  do  but  touch  her  with  the  ftone. 

Will  be  depof'd  that  Angell  fhe  is  none. 

How  can  he  proue  her  for  an  Angell  thenf 

That  proues  her  felfe  a  Diuell,  tempting  men. 

And  draweth  many  to  the  fierie  pit. 

Where  they  are  burned  for  their  en'tring  it. 

I  know  no  caufe  wherefore  he  tearmes  her  fo, 

Vnleffe  he  meanes  fhee's  one  of  them  below, 

Where  Lucifer,  chiefe  Prince  doth  domineere: 

If  fhe  be  fuch,  then  good  my  hartes  ftand  cleere, 

Come  not  within  the  compaffe  of  her  flight. 

For  fuch  as  do,  are  haunted  with  a  fpright. 

This  Angell  is  not  noted  by  her  winges. 

But  by  her  tayle,  all  full  of  prickes  and  ftinges. 

And  know  this  luftblind  Louer's  vaine  is  led. 

To  prayfe  his  Diuell,  in  an  Angels  fted. 

B  3.  G alius 


EPIG.   I  6. 

Gallus  will  haue  no  Barbour  prune  his  beard, 
Yet  is  his  chin  cleane  fhauen  and  vnh'ear'd. 
How  comes  he  trymmed,  you  may  aske  me  than? 
His  Wenches  do  it  with  their  warming-pan. 



EPIG.  17. 

When  Caitalero  Rake-hell  is  to  rife 

Out  of  his  bed,  he  capers  light  and  heddy. 

Then  wounds  he  fweares :  you  arant  whore  he  cries 

Why  what's  the  caufe  that  breakfaft  is  not  reddyf 

Can  men  feede  like  Camelions,  on  the  ayerf 

This  is  the  manner  of  his  morning  prayer, 

Well,  he  fweares  on,  vntill  his  breakefaft  comes, 
And  then  with  teeth  he  falles  to  worke  apace : 
Leaning  his  Boy  a  banquet  all  of  crummes. 
Difpatch  you  Roague :  my  Rapier,  thats  his  grace. 
So  foorth  he  walkes,  his  ftomacke  muft  goe  fhift. 
To  dine  and  fuppe  abroad,  by  deed  of  guift. 





EPIG.  i8. 

A  vvofull  exclamation  late  I  heard, 

Wherewith  Tabacco  takers  may  be  feard : 

One  at  the  poynt  with  pipe  and  leafe  to  part, 

Did  vow  Tabacco  worfe  then  death's  blacke  dart; 

And  prou'd  it  thus:  You  know  (quoth  he)  my  friends 

Death  onely  ftabbes  the  hart,  and  fo  life  endes : 

But  this  fame  poyfon,  fteeped  India  weede, 

In  head,  hart,  lunges,  doth  foote  &  copwebs  breede 

With  that  he  gafp'd,  and  breath'd  out  fuch  a  fmoke 

That  all  the  ftanders  by  were  like  to  choke. 




EPIG.  19. 

Cacus  would  gladly  drinke,  but  wants  his  Purfe, 
Nay,  wanteth  money;  which  is  ten  times  worfe: 
For  as  he  vowes  himfelfe,  he  hath  not  feene 
In  three  dayes  fpace  the  pi6lure  of  the  Queene. 
Yet  if  he  meete  a  friend  neare  Tauerne  figne, 
Straight  he  intreates  him  take  a  pint  of  Wine, 
For  he  will  giue  it,  that  he  will,  no  nay. 
What  will  he  giue.?  the  other  leaue  to  pay. 
He  calleth :  Boy,  fill  vs  the  tother  quart, 
I  will  beftow  it  eu'en  with  my  hart. 
Then  doth  he  diue  into  his  floppes  profound, 
Where  not  a  poore  port-cullice  can  be  found. 
Meane  while  his  friend  difchargeth  all  the  wine: 
Stay,  fbay  (quoth  he)  or  well;  next  fhal  be  mine. 




EPIG   02. 

Francke  in  name,  and  Francke  by  nature, 
Fraiincis  is  a  moft  kinde  creature : 
Her  felfe  hath  fuffered  manie  a  fall, 
In  ftriueing  how  to  pleafure  all. 




EPIG.  2  I. 

Soto  can  prooue,  fuch  as  are  drunke  by  noone, 
Are  long-liu'd  men ;  the  pox  he  can  as  foone. 
Nay,  heare  his  reafon  ere  you  do  condemne, 
And  if  you  finde  it  foolifh,  hiffe  and  hemme. 
He  faies,  Good  blood  is  euen  the  Hfe  of  man ; 
I  graunt  him  that;  (faie  you)  well  go-to  than. 
More  drinke,  the  more  good  blood  Oh  thats  a  lie; 
The  more  you  drinke,  the  fooner  drunke  fay  I. 
Now  he  protefts  you  do  him  mightie  wrong. 
Swearing  a  man  in  drinke,  is  three  men  ftrong: 
And  he  will  pawne  his  head  againft  a  pennie. 
One  right  madd  drunke,  will  brawle  &  fight  with 
Well,  you  replie:  that  argument  is  weake,         (anie. 
How  can  a  Drunkard  brawle,  that  cannot  fpeake? 
Or  how  can  he  vfe  weapon  in  his  hand, 
Which  cannot  guide  his  feete  to  goe  or  ftandf 
Harke  what  an  oath  the  drunken  flaue  doth  fweare 
He  is  a  man  by  that,  a  man  may  heare. 
And  when  you  fee  him  ftagger,  reele,  and  winke, 
He  is  a  man  and  more;  I  by  this  drinke. 




EPIG.    2  2. 

When  figneur  Sacke  &■  S^iger  drinke-drown'd  reeles 

He  vowes  to  heaw  the  fpurr's  from's  fellows  heeles 

When  caUing  for  a  quart  of  Charnico, 

Into  a  louing  league  they  prefent  grow: 

Then  inftantly  vpon  a  cuppe  or  twaine, 

Out  Poniardes  goe,  and  to  the  flabbe  agame. 

Friendes  vpon  that,  they  drinke,  and  fo  imhrace: 

Straight  bandy  Daggers  at  each  others  face. 

This  is  the  humour  of  a  madd  drunke  foole, 

In  Taueme  pots  that  keepes  his  Fenceing-fchole. 




EPIG.  23. 

Cornutus  was  exceeding  ficke  and  ill, 

Pain'd  as  it  feemed  chiefely  in  his  hed: 

He  cal'd  his  friendes,  meaning  to  make  his  will ; 

Who  found  him  drunke,  with  hofe  &  fhooes  a  bed 

To  whom  he  fayd:  Oh  good  my  Maifters  fee, 

Drinke  with  his  dart  hath  all  be  ftabbed  mee. 

I  here  bequeath,  if  I  do  chaunce  to  die, 
To  you  kinde  freinds,  and  bon  companions  all, 
A  pound  of  good  Tabacco,  fweet,  and  drie, 
To  drinke  amongft  you,  at  my  Funerall: 
Befides,  a  barrell  of  the  beft  flrong  Beere, 
And  Pickle-herrings,  for  to  domineere. 




EPIG.  24. 

Wee  men,  in  many  faultes  abound, 

But  two,  in  women  can  be  found: 

The  worft  that  from  their  fex  proceedes, 

Is  naught  in  wordes,  and  naught  in  deedes. 




EPIG.  25. 

Bid  me  go  fleepef  I  fcorne  it  with  my  heeles, 
I  know  my  felfe  as  good  a  man  as  thee. 
Let  goe  mine  Arme  I  fay,  lead  him  that  reeles. 
I  am  a  right  good  fellow;  doft  thou  feef 
I  know  what  longes  to  drinking,  and  I  can 
Abufe  my  felfe  afwell  as  any  man. 

I  care  no  more  for  twentie  hunderd  pound, 
(Before  the  Lord)  then  for  a  very  ftraw. 
He  fight  with  any  hee  adoue  the  ground. 
Tut,  tell  not  mee  whats  what ;  I  know  the  law. 
Rapier  and  Dagger:  hey,  a  kingly  fight. 
He  now  try  falles  with  any,  by  this  light. 




EPIG.  26. 

Behold,  a  moft  accomplish'd  Caualeere, 

That  the  world's  Ape  of  Fashions  doth  appeare, 

Walking  the  ftreets,  his  humors  to  difclofe, 

In  the  French  Doublet,  and  the  Germane  Hofe : 

The  Muffes  Cloake,  Spanish  Hat,  Toledo  blade, 

Italian  rufte,  a  Shooe  right  Flemish  made, 

Like  Lord  of  Misrule,  where  he  comes  hee'le  reuel 

And  lie  for  wagers  with  the  lying'ft  diuell. 



EPIGRAMS.   Epig.  27. 

Aske  Humors  why  a  Feather  he  doth  wearef 

It  is  his  humor  (by  the  Lord)  heele  fweare. 

Or  what  he  doth  with  fuch  a  Horfe-taile  lockef 

Or  why  vpon  a  Whoore  he  fpendes  his  ftockef 

He  hath  a  Humor  doth  determine  fo. 

Why  in  the  Stop-throate  fafhion  doth  he  go, 

With  Scarfe  about  his  necke?  Hat  without  band? 

It  it  is  his  humor,  fweete  fir  vnderftand. 

What  caufe  his  Purfe  is  fo  extreame  diftreft, 

That  often  times  t'is  fcarcely  penny  bleflf 

Onely  a  Humor:  If  you  quefhion  why? 

His  tongue  is  nere  vnfurnifli'd  with  a  lye : 

It  is  his  Humor  too  he  doth  proteft. 

Or  why  with  Serjants  he  is  fo  opprefl. 

That  hke  to  Ghoftes  they  haunt  him  erie  day? 

A  rafcall  Humor,  doth  not  loue  to  pay. 

Obie6l,  why  Bootes  and  Spurres  are  flill  in  feafonf 

His  Humor  anfweres:  Humor  is  the  reafon. 

If  you  perceiue  his  wittes  in  wetting  fhrunke, 

It  commeth  of  a  Humor,  to  be  drunke, 

When  you  behould  his  lookes  pale,  thin,  and  poore, 

Th'  occfion  is,  his  Humor,  and  a  Whore: 

And  euery  thing  that  he  doth  vndertake. 

It  is  a  vaine,  for  fenceleffe  Humors  fake. 

C.  Three 



EPIG.  2 

Three  high-way  ftanders,  haueing  cros-leffe  curffe 
Did  greete  my  friend  with,  Sir  giue  vs  your  purffe: 
Though  he  were  true-man,  they  agreed  in  one: 
For  purffe  &  coyne  betwixt  them  foure  was  none. 




EPIG.  29. 

A  Gentlewoman  of  the  dealing  trade, 

ProcLir'd  her  owne  fweete  pidlure  to  be  made : 

Which  being  done,  fhe  from  her  worde  did  flippe. 

And  would  not  pay  full  due  for  workmanfhippe. 

The  Painter  fwore  fhe  nere  fliould  haue  it  foe, 

She  bad  him  keepe  it;  and  away  did  goe. 

He  cholericke,  and  mightie  difcontent, 

Straight  tooke  his  pencell  and  to  worke  he  went : 

Makeing  the  Dog  fhe  held,  a  grim  Cattes  face, 

And  hung  it  in  his  flioppe,  to  her  difgrace. 

Some  of  her  friends  that  faw  it,  to  her  went, 

In  iefbing  maner,  afkeing  what  fhe  ment. 

To  haue  her  pi6lure  hang  where  gazers  fwarme, 

Holding  a  filthy  Catte  within  her  arme. 

She  in  a  fhamefull  heate  in  haft  did  hie, 

The  Painter  to  content  and  fatiffie : 

Right  glad  to  giue  a  French  Crowne  for  his  paine, 

To  turne  her  Catte,  into  a  Dog  againe. 





EPIG.  30. 

When  Tarlton  clown'd  it  in  a  pleafant  vaine, 
And  with  conceites,  did  good  opinions  gaine 
Vpon  the  Stage,  his  merry  humors  fhop.  (flop. 

Clownes  knew  the  Clowne,  by  his  great  clownifli 
But  now  th'are  gull'd,  for  prefent  fafliion  fayes, 
Dicke  Tarltons  part,  Gentlemens  breeches  playes: 
In  euery  flreete  where  any  Gallant  goes. 
The  fwagg'ring  Sloppe,  is  Tarltons  clownifh  hofe. 




EPIG.  3  I. 

To  Lutius. 
One  newlie  prafliz'd  in  Astronomie, 
That  neuer  dealt  in  weather-witt  before : 
Would  fcrape  (forfooth)  acquaintance  of  the  skie, 
And  by  his  arte,  goe  knocke  at  heauen  dore. 
Meane  while  a  Scholler  in  his  ftudie  flippes, 
And  taught  his  Wife  skill  in  the  Moones  eclippes. 

Next  night,  that  freind  perfwads  him  walke  alone 
Into  the  fielde,  to  gather  ftarres  that  fell: 
To  mix  them  with  Philofophers  rare  ftone 
That  begets  gold :  he  likt  the  motion  well, 
And  went  to  watch,  where  ftarres  dropt  verie  thin, 
But  raine  fo  fhour'd,  it  wet  his  foole-cafe  skin. 





EPIG.  32. 

What  gallant's  that  whofe  oaths  flie  through  mine 
How  like  a  lord  oi  Plntoes  court  he  fweares:     (eares? 
How  braue  in  fuch  a  baudie  houfe  he  fought, 
How  rich  his  emptie  purfe  is  outfide  wrought. 
How  Duch-man-like  he  fwallows  downe  his  drink 
How  fwccte  he  takes  Tabacco  till  he  ftinke: 
How  loftie  fprited  he  difdaines  a  Boore, 
How  faithfuU  harted  he  is  to  a  (  .) 

How  cocke-taile  proude  he  doth  his  head  aduaunce 
How  rare  his  fpurres  do  ring  the  moris-daunce. 
Now  I  prorell,  by  Miftris  Sitfans  fanne, 
He  and  his  boy,  will  make  a  proper  man. 



EPIGRAMS.   Epig.  33. 

Laugh  good  my  Maifters,  if  you  can  intend  it, 
For  yonder  comes  a  Foole,  that  will  defend  it : 
Saw  you  a  verier  Affe  in  all  your  life, 
That  makes  himfelfe  a  packe-horfe  to  his  wifei' 
I  would  his  nofe  where  I  could  wifh,  were  warme, 
For  carrying  Pearle,  fo  prettie  vnder's  arme, 
Pearle  his  wiues  Dog,  a  prettie  fweete-fac'd  curre, 
That  barkes  a  nights  at  the  leaft  fart  doth  fturre, 
Is  now  not  well,  his  colde  is  fcarcely  broke, 
Therfore  good  hisband  wrap  him  in  thy  cloake: 
And  fweete  hart,  preethee  helpe  me  to  my  Maske, 
Holde  Pearle  but  tender,  for  he  hath  the  laske. 
Here,  take  my  muffe;  and  do  you  heare  good  man/" 
Now  giue  me  Pearle,  and  carrie  you  my  Fanne. 
Alacke  poore  Pearle,  the  wretch  is  full  of  paine, 
Hisband,  take  Pearle;  giue  me  my  Fanne  againe, 
See  how  he  quakes :  faith  I  am  like  to  weepe, 
Com  to  me  Pearle:  my  Scarfe  good  hisband  keepe, 
To  be  with  me  I  know  my  Puppie  loues. 
Why  Pearle,  I  faie:  hisband  take  vp  my  Gloues. 
Thus  goodman  Idiot  thinkes  himfelfe  an  Earle, 
That  he  can  pleafe  his  wife,  and  carrie  Pearle: 
But  others  iudge  his  ftate  to  be  no  higher, 
Then  a  Dogges  yeoman,  or  fome  pippin  Squier. 

C  4.  What's 



EPIG.  34. 

What's  he  that  fits  and  takes  a  nappe, 
Fac'd  like  the  North  winde  of  a  mappe, 
And  fleeping,  to  the  wind  doth  nod? 
Tis  Bacchus  coofcn,  BelHe-god. 




EPIG.  35. 

Seuerjis  is  extreame  in  eloquence, 

In  perfum'd  words,  plung'd  ouer  head  and  eares, 

He  doth  create  rare  phrafe,  but  rarer  fence, 

Fragments  of  Latme,  all  about  he  beares. 

Vnto  his  feruingman  alias  his  boy, 

He  vtters  fpeach  exceeding  quaint  and  coy. 

Deminitiue,  and  my  defe6liue  flaue, 

Reach  my  corpes  couerture  imediately: 

My  pleafures  pleafure  is,  the  fame  to  haue, 

T'infconfe  my  perfon  from  frigiditie. 

His  man  beleeues  all's  Welch,  his  Maifler  fpoke, 

Till  he  rayles  English ;  Roage  goe  fetch  my  cloke. 




EPIG.  36. 

Why  fhould  the  Mercers  trade,  a  Satten  fute, 
With  Cookes  greafe  be  fo  wickedly  pokite.^ 
The  reafon  is,  the  fcandall  and  defame 
Grew,  that  a  greafie  flouen  weres  the  fame. 




EPIG.  37. 
An  honeft  Vicker,  and  a  kinde  confort, 
That  to  the  Alehoufe  friendly  would  refort, 
To  haue  a  game  at  Tables  now  and  than, 
Or  drinke  his  pot  as  foone  as  any  man : 
As  faire  a  gamfter,  and  as  free  from  braul, 
As  euer  man  fliould  need  to  play  withall : 
Becaufe  his  Hofteffc  pledg'd  him  not  caroufe, 
Rafhly  in  choUer  did  forfweare  her  houfe. 
Takeing  the  glaffe,  this  was  the  oath  he  fwore, 
Now  by  this  drinke,  He  nere  come  hither  more. 
But  mightilie  his  Hofteffe  did  repent, 
For  all  her  gueftes  to  the  next  Alehoufe  went, 
Following  their  Vickers  fteps  in  euerie  thing : 
He  led  the  parrifli  euen  by  a  ftring. 
At  length  his  auncient  Hofteffe  did  complaine. 
She  was  vndone,  vnles  he  came  againe. 
Defiring  certaine  friends  of  hers  and  his, 
To  vfe  a  poUecie,  which  fhould  be  this :  (him, 

Becaufe  with  coming  he  fliould  not  forfweare  (him 
To  faue  his  oath,  they  on  their  backes  might  beare 
Of  this  good  courfe  the  Vicker  well  did  thinke, 
And  fo  they  allwaies  carried  him  to  drinke. 


Your  Sceane  is  done,  depart  you  Epigrammes : 
Enter  Goatc-footed  Satyres,  butt  like  Rammes. 

Come  nimbly  foorth,  Why  Jland you  on  delay? 
0-ho,  the  Mufique-tuning  makes  you  Jiay. 

Well,  friske  it  out  nimbly:  youjlaues  begin, 
For  noiv  me  thinkes  the  Fidlers  handes  are  in. 



"\7[  T'Ho  haue  we  heref  Behold  him  and  be  mute. 

Some  mightie  man  He  warrant  by  his  fute. 
If  all  the  Mercers  in  Cheapefide  shew  fuch, 
He  giue  them  leaue  to  giue  me  twice  afmuch: 
I  thinke  the  Stufife  is  nameleffe  he  doth  Aveare: 
But  what  fo  ere  it  be,  it  is  huge  geare. 
Marke  but  his  gate,  and  giue  him  then  his  due. 
Some  fwaggring  fellow,  Imay  fay  to  you.- 
It  feemes  Ambition  in  his  bigge  lookes  fhrowdes 
Some  Centaure  fure,  begotten  of  the  Cloudes. 
Now  a  shame  take  the  buzard,  is  it  hee.^ 
I  know  the  ruffaine,  now  his  face  I  fee: 
On  a  more  gull  the  Sunne  did  neuer  shine; 
How  with  a  vengance  comes  the  foole  fo  fine.^ 
Some  Noble  mans  caft  Sute  is  fallne  vnto  him. 
For  buying  Hofe  and  Doblet  would  vndo  him. 




Bot  wotc  you  now,  whither  the  buzard  walkes? 

I,  into  Panics  forfooth,  and  there  he  talkes 

Of  forraine  tumults,  vttring  his  aduice, 

And  proueing-  Warres  euen  Hke  a  game  at  dice: 

For  this  (fayes  he)  as  euery  gamfter  knowes, 

Where  one  fide  winnes,  the  other  fide  muft  loofe. 

Next  fpeach  he  vtters,  is  his  ftomackes  care, 

Which  ordinarie  yeeldes  the  cheapeft  fare: 

Or  if  his  purffc  be  out  of  tune  to  pay. 

Then  he  remembers  tis  a  fafting  day: 

And  then  he  talkcth  much  againft  exceffe, 

Swearing  all  other  Nations  eate  farre  leffe 

Then  EngHHimen;  experience  you  may  get 

In  Fraunce  and  Spayne:  where  he  was  neuer  yet. 

With  a  fcore  Figges  and  halfe  a  pint  of  Wine, 

Some  foure  or  fine  will  verry  hugely  dine. 

Mee  thinkes  this  tale  is  very  huge  in  found. 

That  halfe  a  pint  fliould  ferue  fiue  to  drinke  round 

And  twenty  Figges  could  feed  them  full  and  fat: 

But  traucllcrs  may  lye;  who  knowes  not  that? 

Then  why  not  he  that  trauels  in  conceit, 

From  Eafk  to  Weft,  when  he  can  get  no  meate.-' 

His  lourney  is  in  Panics  in  the  backe  Ifles, 




Wher's  ftomacke  counts  each  pace  a  hudred  miles 

A  tedious  thing,  though  chaunce  will  haue  it  fuch, 

To  trauaile  fo  long  baitleffe,  fure  tis  much. 

Some  other  time  ftumbling  on  wealthy  Chuffes 

Worth  gulling:  then  he  fwaggers  all  in  huffes, 

And  tells  them  of  a  prize  he  was  at  takeing 

Wil  be  the  fhip-boyes  childrens  childrens  making. 

And  that  a  moufe  could  finde  no  roomc  in  holde, 

It  was  fo  pefterd  all  Avith  pearle  and  golde : 

Vowing  to  pawne  his  head  if  it  were  tride, 

They  had  more  Rubies  then  wold  paue  Cheapfide 

A  thowfand  other  grofe  and  odious  lies, 

He  dares  auouch  to  blinde  dull  ludgmentes  eies. 

Not  careing  what  he  fpeake  or  what  he  fweare. 

So  he  gaine  credite  at  his  hearers  eare. 

Somtimes  into  the  Royall  ExcJiauge  heel  droppe. 

Clad  in  the  mines  of  a  Brokers  fhoppe : 

And  there  his  tongue  runs  byas  on  affaires. 

No  talke  but  of  comodities  and  wares : 

And  what  great  wealth  he  lookes  for  ery  winde, 

From  God  knowes  where,  the  place  is  hard  to 

If  newes  be  harkend  for,  thii  he  preuailes,         (finde. 

Setting  his  mynt  aworke  to  coyne  falfe  tales. 




His  tongues-end  is  betipt  with  forged  chat, 

Vttring  rare  lyes  to  be  admired  at, 

Heele  tell  you  of  a  tree  that  he  doth  know, 

Vpon  the  which  Rapiers  and  Daggers  grow, 

As  good  as  Fleetftreete  hath  in  any  shoppe ; 

Which  being"  ripe,  downe  into  fcabbards  droppe. 

He  hath  a  very  peece  of  that  fame  Chaire, 

In  which  Ccefa7'  was  ftabb'd:  Is  it  not  raref 

He  with  his  feete  vpon  the  ftones  did  tread, 

That  Sathan  brought,  &  bad  CJiriJl  make  the  bread. 

His  wondrous  trauels  challenge  fuch  renowne, 

That  Sir  loJin  Maiuidhiell  is  quite  put  downe. 

Men  without  heades,  and  Pigmeis  hand-bredth  hie 

Thofe  with  one  legge  that  on  their  backes  do  lie, 

And  doe  the  weathers  iniurie  difdaine. 

Making  their  legges  a  penthoufe  for  the  raine, 

Are  tut,  and  tush :  not  any  thing  at  all. 

His  knowledge  knowes,  what  no  mans  notice  shal. 

This  is  a  mate  vnmeete  for  eu'iy  groome, 

And  where  he  comes,  peace,  giue  his  lying  roome. 

He  faw  a  Hollander  in  Middlcborow, 

As  he  was  flashing  of  a  browne  Loafe  thorow, 

Where-to  the  hafte  of  hunger  had  inclyn'd  him, 




Cut  himfelfe  through,  &  two  that  flood  behind  him 

Befides,  he  faw  a  fellow  put  to  death, 

Could  drinke  a  whole  Beere  barrell  at  a  breath. 

Oh  this  is  he  that  will  fay  any  thing, 

That  to  himfelfe  may  any  profite  bring. 

Gaynft  whofouer  he  doth  fpeake  he  cares  not, 

For  what  is  it  that  fuch  a  villaine  dares  not.^ 

And  though  in  confcience  he  cannot  denie, 

The  All-commaunder  fayth,  TJionJJialt  not  lie: 

Yet  he  will  anfwere  (^careleffe  of  foules  ftate) 

Trueth  telling,  is  a  thing  obtayneth  hate. 






A    Man  may  tell  his  friend  his  fault  in  kindnes : 

To  wincke  at  folly,  is  a  foolifli  blindnes. 
God  fane  yoii  Sir,  faluteth  with  a  grace, 
One  he  could  wifli  neuer  to  fee  his  face. 
But  doth  not  he  vfe  meere  disfimulation, 
That's  infide  hate,  and  outfide  falutationf 
Yes  as  I  take  it ;  yet  his  anfwere  fayes, 
Fafhions,  and  Cuftomes,  vfe  it  now  a  dayes, 
A  Gentleman  perhaps  may  chaunce  to  meete 
His  Liuing-griper  face  to  face  in  ftreete: 
And  though  his  lookes  are  odious  vnto  fight; 
Yet  will  he  doe  him  the  French  conges  right. 
And  in  his  hart  wifh  him  as  low  as  hell, 
When  in  his  wordes,  hee's  glad  to  fee  him  well ; 
Then  being  thus,  a  man  may  foone  fuppofe. 
There  is,  God  fane  yotc  fir,  fometimes  twixt  foes. 

D  2. 




Oh  fir,  why  thats  as  true  as  you  are  heere, 

With  one  example  I  will  make  it  cleere, 

And  farre  to  fetch  the  fame  I  will  not  goe, 

But  into  Hoiinds-ditcJi,  to  the  Brokers  row: 

Or  any  place  where  that  trade  doth  remaine, 

Whether  at  Holbonic  Conduit,  or  Long-lane-. 

If  thyther  you  vouchfafe  to  turne  your  eye, 

And  fee  the  Pawnes  that  vnder  forfayte  lye, 

Which  are  foorth  comming  fir,  and  fafe  enough 

Sayes  good-man  Broker,  in  his  new  print  ruffe; 

He  will  not  ftand  too  ftri6lly  on  a  day, 

Encouraging  the  party  to  delay, 

With  all  good  wordes,  the  kindefb  may  be  fpoke. 

He  turnes  the  Gentleman  out  of  his  Cloake: 

And  yet  betweene  them  both,  at  euery  meeting, 

God  fane  you  fir,  is  their  familiar  greeting, 

This  is  much  kindneffe  fure ;  I  pray  commend  him. 

With  great  good  words,  he  highly  doth  befrend  him 

It  is  a  fauour  at  a  pinch,  in  neede: 

A  pinching  friendfliip,  and  a  pinching  deede. 

The  flaue  may  weare  his  fuites  of  Sattin  fo. 

And  like  a  man  of  reputation  go. 

When  all  he  hath,  in  houfe,  or  on  his  backe. 




It  is  his  owne,  by  forfaytures  fhypwracke. 
See  you  the  Brooch  that  long  ins  Hat  hath  bin? 
It  may  be  there,  it  coft  him  not  a  pin : 
His  fundry  fortes  of  diuers  mens  attyre, 
He  weares  them  cheape,  euen  at  his  owne  defire. 
Shame  ouer-take  the  peffant  for  his  payne, 
Tliat  he  fhould  pray  on  loffes,  to  his  gayne, 
In  drawing  Wardrobes  vnder  his  fubieftion, 
Being  a  Knaue  in  manners  and  complexion, 
lumpe  like  to  Vficrie,  his  neareft  kinne; 
That  weares  a  money  bagge  vnder  his  chinne : 
A  bunch  that  doth  refemble  fuch  a  fhape, 
And  hayred  like  to  Paris  garden  Ape, 
Foaming  about  the  chaps  like  fome  wilde   Boore, 
As  fwart  and  tawnie  as  an  India  Moore: 
With  narrow  brow,  and  Sqirrell  eyes,  he  fliowes, 
His  faces  chiefeft  ornament,  is  nofe. 
Full  furniflied  with  many  a  Clarret  ftaine, 
As  large  as  any  Codpiece  of  a  Datic, 
Emboffed  curious;  euery  eye  doth  iudge, 
His  lacket  faced  with  motheaten  Budge: 
To  which  a  paire  of  Satten  fleeues  he  weares, 
Wherein  two  pound  of  greace  about  he  beares. 





His  Specktacles  do  in  a  copper  cafe, 
Hang  dangling  about  his  pisfing  place. 
His  breeches  and  his  hofe,  and  all  the  reft 
Are  futable:  His  gowne  (I  meane  his  beft) 
Is  full  of  threeds,  Intitul'd  right  threed-bare: 
But  wooll  theron  is  wondrous  fcant  and  rare. 
The  welting  hath  him  in  no  chardges  ftood, 
Beeing  the  ruines  of  a  caft  French  hood. 
Exceffe  is  finfull,  and  he  doth  defie  it, 
A  fparing  whorfon  in  attire  and  diet. 
Only  exceffe  is  lawfull  in  his  Chefl, 
For  there  he  makes  a  golden  Angells  neft : 
And  vowes  no  farder  to  be  founde  a  lender, 
Then  that  moft  pretious  mettall  doth  engender: 
Begetting  daylie  more  and  more  encreafe. 
His  monyes  flaue,  till  wretched  life  furceafe. 
This  is  the  lezu  alied  verie  neere, 
vnto  the  Br-oker,  for  they  both  do  beare 
Vndoubted  teflimonic  of  their  kinne : 
A  brace  of  Rafcalls  in  a  league  of  fmne. 
Two  filthie  Curres  that  will  on  no  man  fawne, 
Before  they  taft  the  fweetneffe  of  his  pawne. 
And  then  the  flaues  will  be  as  kinde  forfooth. 




Not  as  Kinde-Jieart,  in  drawing  out  a  tooth: 

For  he  doth  eafe  the  Patient  cf  his  paine, 

But  they  difeafe  the  Borrower  of  his  gaine. 

Yet  neither  of  them  vfe  extremitie, 

They  can  be  villaines  euen  of  charitie. 

To  lend  our  Brother  it  is  meete  and  fit: 

Giue  him  roft  meate  and  beat  him  with  the  fpit. 

Vfcrie  fure  is  requifite  and  good, 

And  fo  is  Brokeage,  rightly  vnderftood : 

But  foft  a  litle,  what  is  he  faies  io? 

One  of  the  twaine  (vpon  my  life)  I  knowe. 





/^H,  let  the  Gentlewoman  haue  the  wall, 

^-'^I  know  her  well;  tis  Miftris,  What  d'ye  call. 

It  fhould  be  fhee,  both  by  her  Maske  and  Fanne: 

And  yer  it  fliould  not,  by  her  Seruing-man ; 

For  if  mine  eyes  do  not  miftake  the  foole, 

He  is  the  Vfher  of  fome  Dauncing  Schole, 

The  reafon  why  I  doe  him  fuch  fuppofe, 

Is  this;  Mee  thinkes  he  daunceth  as  he  goes. 

An  a6liue  fellow,  though  he  be  but  poore, 

Eyther  to  vault  vpon  a  Horfe,  or  &c. 

See  you  the  huge  bum  Dagger  at  his  backe. 

To  which  no  Hilt  nor  Iron  he  doth  lacke. 

Oh  with  that  blade  he  keepes  the  queanes  in  awe, 

Brauely  behacked,  like  a  two-hand  Saw. 

Stampes  on  the  ground,  &  byteth  both  his  thoms 

Vnleffe  he  be  commaunder  where  he  coms. 




You  damned  whores,  where  are  you?  quicke  come 

Dry  this  Tabacco.     Fill  a  dofen  a  Beere :  (heere, 

Will  you  be  briefe?  or  long  ye  to  be  bang'd? 

Hold,  take  this  Match ;  go  light  it  and  be  hang'd. 

Where  ftay  thefe  whores  when  Gent,  do  call? 

Heer's  no  attendaunce  (by  the  Lord)  at  all. 

Then  downe  the  ftaires,  the  pots  in  rage  he  throws 

And  in  a  damned  vaine  of  fwearing  growes, 

For  he  will  challenge  any  vnder  heau'n, 

To  fweare  with  him,  and  giue  him  fixe  at  feuen. 

Oh,  he  is  an  accomplifli'd  Gentleman, 

And  many  rare  conceited  knackes  he  can; 

Which  yeeld  to  him  a  greater  flore  of  gaine. 

Then  iuggling  Kings,  hey  Paffe,  ledgerdemaine. 

His  witt's  his  lyuing:  one  of  quaynt  deuice. 

For  Bowling-allies,  Cockpits,  Gardes,  or  Dice, 

To  thofe  exployts  he  euer  ftandes  prepar'd : 

A  Villaine  excellent  at  a  Bum  card. 

The  Knaue  of  Clubbes  he  any  time  can  burne, 

And  finde  him  in  his  boofome,  for  his  turne. 

Tut,  he  hath  Gardes  for  any  kind  of  game, 

Priincro,  Saiint;  or  whatfoeuer  name, : 

Make  him  but  dealer,  all  his  fellowes  fweares. 




If  you  do  finde  good  dealing,  take  his  eares. 
But  come  to  Dice;  why  that's  his  onely  trade, 
Michell  Mum-cliaunce,  his  owne  Inuention  made. 
He  hath  a  ftocke,  whereon  his  lyuing  ftayes, 
And  they  are  Fullams,  and  Bard  quarter-tj'ayes : 
His  Langrets,  with  his  Hie  men,  and  his  low, 
Are  ready  what  his  pleafure  is  to  throw: 
His  ftopt  Dice  with  Ouick-filuer  neuer  miffe. 
He  calles  for,  Come  on  fiue;  and  there  it  is: 
Or  elfe  heele  haue  it  with  fiue  and  a  reach, 
Although  it  coft  his  necke  the  Halter  ftretch. 
Befides  all  this  fame  kinde  of  cheating  art. 
The  Gentleman  hath  fome  good  other  part, 
Well  feene  in  Magickc  and  AJlrologic, 
Flinging  a  Figure  wondrous  handfomly; 
Which  if  it  do  not  miffe,  it  fure  doth  hitt: 
Of  troth  the  man  hath  great  ftore  of  fmall  witt. 
And  note  him  wherefoeuer  that  he  goes. 
His  Booke  of  Chara6lers  is  in  his  hofe. 
His  dinner  he  will  not  prefume  to  take, 
Ere  he  aske  counfell  of  an  Almanacke. 
Heele  finde  if  one  prooue  falfe  vnto  his  wife, 
Onely  with  Oxe  blood,  and  a  ruftie  knife. 




He  can  transforme  himfelfe  vnto  an  Affe, 

Shewe  you  the  Deuil  in  a  Chriftall  glaffe : 

The  Deuill  fay  you?  why  I,  is  that  fuch  wonder f 

Being  confortes  they  will  not  be  afunder. 

Alainiie  in  his  braines  fo  fure  doth  fettle, 

He  can  make  golde  of  any  copper  kettle; 

Within  a  three  weekes  fpace  or  fuch  a  thing, 

Riches  vpon  the  whole  worlde  he  could  bring, 

But  in  his  owne  purfe  one  fliall  hardly  fpie  it, 

Witneffe  his  Hofteffe,  for  a  twelue-moneths  diet: 

Who  would  be  glad  of  golde  or  filuer  either, 

But  fweares  by  chalke,  &  poaft,  flie  can  get  neither. 

More,  he  will  teach  any  to  gaine  their  loue, 

As  thus  (faies  he)  take  me  a  Turtle  Doue, 

And  in  an  Ouen  let  her  lie  and  bake 

So  diy,  that  you  may  poulder  of  her  make; 

Which  being  put  into  a  cuppe  of  wine. 

The  wenche  that  drinkes  it  will  to  loue  incline: 

And  fhall  not  fleepe  in  quiet  in  her  bed, 

Till  fhe  be  eafed  of  her  mayden-head. 

This  IS  probatum,  and  it  hath  bin  tride, 

Or  els  the  cunning  man  cunningly  lide. 

It  may  be  fo,  a  lie  is  not  fo  ftrange, 




Perhaps  he  fpake  it  when  the  Moone  did  chandge 
And  thereupon  (no  doubt)  th'occafion  fprunge, 
Vnconftant  Lima,  ouer  rul'd  his  tongue. 
Astronomers  that  traffique  with  the  Skie, 
By  common  cenfure  fomtimes  meete  the  lie: 
Although  indeede  their  blame  is  not  fo  much, 
When  Starres,  &  Planets  faile,  &  keepe  not  tutch. 
And  fo  this  fellow  with  his  lardge  profeffion, 
That  endes  his  triall  in  a  farre  digreffion : 
Philofophers  bequeathed  him  their  ftone, 
To  make  golde  with;  yet  can  his  purfe  holde  none. 




A/l  E/Z^uuioiis,  fweete  Rofe-watred  elloquence, 

Thou  that  haft  hunted  Barbarifme  hence, 
And  taught  the  Goodman  Cobbin,  at  his  plow, 
To  be  as  eloquent,  as  Tidlie  now : 
Who  nominicates  his  Bread  and  Cheefe  a  name, 
(That  doth  vntruffe  the  nature  of  the  fame,) 
His  stomacke  stayer.     How  dee  like  the  phrafeF 
Are  Plough-men  fimple  fellowes  now  adayesf 
Not  fo,  my  Maifters:  What  meanes  Singer  thenf 
And  Pope  the  Clowne,  to  fpeake  fo  Boorifh,  when 
They  counterfaite  the  Clownes  vpon  the  Stage? 
Since  Countrey  fellowes  grow  in  this  fame  age, 
To  be  fo  quaint  in  their  new  printed  fpeech, 
That  Cloth  will  now  compare  with  Veluet  breech 
Let  him  difcourfe,  euen  where,  and  when  he  dare, 
Talke  nere  fo  Ynk-home  learnedly  and  rare, 
Sweare  Cloth  breech  is  a  peffant  (by  the  Lord) 




Threaten  to  drawe  his  wrath-venger,  his  fworde : 

Tufh,  Cloth-preech  doth  deride  him  with  a  laugh, 

And  lets  him  fee  Bofic-bastcr;  thats  his  ftaffe: 

Then  tells  him  brother,  friend,  or  fo  foorth,  heare  ye 

Tis  not  your  knitting-needle,  makes  me  feare  ye. 

If  to  afcention  you  are  fo  declinde, 

I  hauc  a  reftitution  in  my  minde: 

For  though  your  beard  do  ftand  fo  fine  muflated, 

Perhaps  your  nofe  may  be  transfifticated. 

Man,  I  dare  challenge  thee  to  throw  the  fledge, 

To  iumpc  or  leape  ouer  a  ditch  or  hedge, 

To  wraftle,  play  at  ftooleball,  or  to  runne, 

To  pitch  the  barre,  or  to  flioote  off  a  gunne : 

To  play  at  loggets,  nine  holes,  or  ten  pinnes, 

To  trie  it  out  at  foot-ball  by  the  fhinnes ; 

At  Ticktacke,  Irifli,  Noddie,  Maw,  and  Ruffe: 

At  hot-cockles,  leape-frogge,  or  blindman-buffe : 

To  drinke  halfe  pots,  or  deale  at  the  whole  canne: 

To  play  at  bafe,  or  pen-and  Ynk-horne  fir  Ihan/ 

To  daunce  the  Morris,  play  at  barly-breake : 

At  all  exploytes  a  man  can  thinke  or  fpeake: 

At  fhoue-groate,  venter  poynt,  or  croffe  and  pile. 

At  befiirow  him  that's  laft  at  yonder  ftyle. 




At  leaping  ore  a  Midfommer  bon-fier, 
Or  at  the  drawing  Dun  out  of  the  myer: 
At  any  of  thefe,  or  all  thefc  prefently, 
Wagge  but  your  finger,  I  am  for  you,  I ; 
I  fcorne  (that  am  a  younfter  of  our  towne) 
To  let  a  Bowe-bell  Cockney  put  me  downe. 
This  is  a  Gallant  farre  beyond  a  Gull, 
For  very  valour  filles  his  pockets  full. 
Wit  fhowers  vpon  him  Wifedomes  raine  in  plent>- 
For  heele  be  hangd,  if  any  man  finde  twenty 
In  all  their  parifh,  whatfoere  they  be, 
Can  fhew  a  head  fo  polleticke  as  he. 
It  was  his  fathers  lucke  of  late  to  die 
Vntejlate;  he  about  the  Legacie 
To  London  came,  inquiring  all  about, 
How  he  might  finde  a  Ciuill-villin  out. 
Being  vnto  a  Ciuill  Lawyer  fent, 
Pray  Sir  (quoth  he)  are  you  the  man  I  meant: 
That  haue  a  certaine  kinde  of  occupation. 
About  dead  men,  that  leaue  things  out  of  fafhion  ? 
Death  hath  done  that  which  t'anfware  he's  not 
My  Father  he  is  dyed  deteftable :  (able, 

I  being  his  eldeft  heire,  he  did  prefer 





Me  Sir,  to  be  his  Executioner: 

And  verie  breifly  my  requeft  to  finnifh, 

Pray  how  may  I  by  law,  his  goods  diminifhf 

Was  this  a  Clownef  tell  true,  or  was  a  none? 

You  make  fatte  Clownes,  if  fuch  as  he  be  one: 

A  man  may  fweare,  if  he  were  vrg'd  to  it, 

Foolifher  fellowes,  haue  not  fo  much  wit. 

Oh  fuch  as  he,  are  euen  the  onely  men, 

Loue  letters  in  a  Milke-maides  praife  to  pen; 

Lines  that  will  woke  the  curftcft  fullen  fhrow, 

To  loue  a  man  whether  flie  will  or  no. 

Being  mofl  wonderous  pathetticall. 

To  make  Cifsc  out  a  cry  in  loue  withall : 

He  fcornes  that  maifler  Scholemaifter  fliold  thinke 

He  wants  his  aide  in  halfe  a  pen  of  ynke: 

All  that  he  doth  it  commeth  ery  whit, 

From  natures  dry-fat,  his  owne  mother  wit. 

As  thus : 
Thou  Honnyfuckle  of  the  Hawthorne  hedge, 
Vouchfafe  in  Cupids  cuppe  my  hart  to  pledge : 
My  hartes  deare  blood  fweete  Cis,  is  thy  caroufe. 
Worth  all  the  Ale  in  Gaatiner  Gubbins  houfe: 
I  fay  no  more  affaires  call  me  away. 




My  Fathers  horfe  for  prouender  doth  ftay. 

Be  thou  the  Lady  CrefsiUlight  to  mee, 

Sir  Trollclolle  I  Avill  proue  to  thee. 

Written  in  hafte :  farewell  my  Cowflippe  fweete, 

Pray  lets  a  Sunday  at  the  Ale-houfe  meete. 


E   2. 




'""Pis  a  bad  worlde,  the  comon  fpeach  doth  go, 

And  he  complaines,  that  helps  to  make  it  fo : 
Yet  euery  man  th'imputed  crime  would  fhunne, 
Hipocrifie  with  a  fine  threed  is  fpunne. 
Each  ftriues  to  fliew  the  verie  beft  in  feeming, 
Honeft  enough,  if  honeft  in  efteeming; 
Praife  waites  vpon  him  now  with  much  renowne, 
That  wrappes  vp  Vices  vnder  Vcrtucs  gowne : 
Commending  with  good  words,  religious  deedes, 
To  helpe  the  poore,  fupplie  our  neighbours  needes 
Do  no  man  wrong,  giue  euery  man  his  owne, 
Be  friend  to  all,  and  enemie  to  none; 
Haue  charitie,  auoyde  contentious  ftrife, 
Oft  he  fpeakes  thus,  that  nere  did  good  in's  life. 
Derifion  hath  an  ore  in  eueric  Boate, 
In's  Neighboures  eie  he  quickly  fpies  a  moate, 




But  the  great  beame  that's  noted  in  his  owne, 

He  lets  rcmaine,  and  neuer  thinkes  theron. 

Some  do  report  he  beares  about  a  facke, 

Halfe  hanging  for\vards,  halfe  behind  at's  backe : 

And  his  owne  faultes  (quite  out  of  fight  and  minde) 

He  cafts  into  the  part  that  hanges  behinde : 

But  other  mens,  he  putteth  in  before, 

And  into  them,  he  looketh  euermore. 

Contempt  corns  very  neere  to  th'others  vaine, 

He  hates  all  good  deferts  with  proud  difdaine : 

Rajlincfsc  is  his  continuall  walking  mate, 

Coftly  apparreld,  loftie  in  his  gate : 

Vp  to  the  eates  in  double  ruffes  and  ftartch, 

God  bleffe  your  ciefight  when  }^ou  fee  him  march : 

Statutes,  and  lawes,  he  dare  prefume  to  breake, 

Againft  fuperiors  cares  not  what  he  fpeake. 

It  is  his  humours  recreation  fittes, 

To  beate  Counftables  and  refift  all  writtes, 

Swearing  the  ripeft  wits  are  childifh  young; 

Vnleffe  they  gaine  inflruclions  from  his  tongue. 

Theres  nothing  done  amongft  the  verie  bed, 

But  he'l  deride  it  with  fomc  bitter  left. 

It's  meate  and  drinke  vnto  him  allwaies,  when 




He  may  be  cenfuring  of  other  men. 
If  a  man  do  but  toward  a  Tauerne  looke, 
He  is  a  drunkard,  he'l  fweare  on  a  Booke: 
Or  if  one  part  a  fray  of  good  intention, 
He  is  a  quarreller,  and  loues  diffention. 
Thofe  that  with  filence  vaine  difcourfes,  breake, 
Are  proud  fantafticks,  that  difdaine  to  fpeake: 
Such  as  fpeake  foberly  with  wifdoms  leafure, 
Are  fooles,  that  in  affe6led  fpeach  take  pleafure: 
If  he  heare  any  that  reproueth  vice, 
He  faies,  thers  none  but  hipocrites  fo  nice. 
No  honeft  woman  that  can  paffe  along, 
But  mufl  endure  fome  fcandall  from  his  tongue. 
She,  deales  croffe  blowes  her  hufand  neuer  feeles: 
This  gentlewoman,  weareth  capering  heeles ; 
There  minces  Mall,  to  fee  what  youth  wil  like  her. 
Her  eies  do  beare  her  witneffe  file's  a  ftriker. 
Yonders  a  wentch,  new  dipt  in  bewties  blaze, 
She,  is  a  maide  as  maides  go  now  a  daies. 
And  thus  Contempt  makes  choifeft  recreation. 
In  holding  euery  one  in  deteftation, 
His  common  gate  is  of  the  ietting  fize. 
He  hath  a  paire  of  euer-ftaring  eies; 




And  lookcs  a  man  fo  hungry  in  the  face, 

As  he  would  eate  him  vp,  and  nere  fay  grace. 

A  little  low  cround  Hatte  he  alwayes  weares, 

And  Fore-horfe-likc  therein  a  Feather  beares. 

Goodly  curld  lockes;  but  furely  tis  great  pitty, 

For  want  of  kembing,  they  are  beaftly  nitty. 

His  Dobblet  is  a  cut  caft  Satten  one,  (none, 

He  fcorncs  to  buy  new  now,  that  nere  bought 

Spotted  in  diuers  places  with  pure  fat, 

Knowne  for  a  right  tall  trencher  man  by  that. 

His  Breeches  that  came  to  him  by  befriending, 

Are  defperatc  like  him  felfe,  &  quite  paft  mending 

He  takes  a  common  courfe  to  goe  vntruft, 

Except  his  Shirt's  a  wafliing;  then  he  muft 

Goe  woollward  for  the  time:  hee  fcornes  it  hee, 

That  worth  two  Shirts  his  Laundreffe  fhould  him 

The  weapons  that  his  humors  do  afford,  (fee. 

Is  Bum-dagger,  and  basket  hilted  Sword. 

And  thcfe  in  cuery  Bawdie  houfe  are  drawnc 

Twice  in  a  day,  vnleffe  they  be  at  pawne. 

If  any  fall  together  by  the  eares. 

To  field  cries  he;  why.^  zownes  (to  field)  he  fweares 

Shew  your  felues  men :  hey,  flafli  it  out  with  blowes 




Let  won  make  tothers  guts  garter  his  hofe, 
Make  Steele  and  Iron  vmpiers  to  the  Fray, 
You  fhall  haue  me  goe  with,  to  fee  faire  play: 
Let  mee  alone,  for  I  will  haue  a  care 
To  fee  that  one  do  kill  the  tother  faire. 
This  is  Contempt,  that's  euery  ones  difdayner. 
The  ftrife  purfuer,  and  the  peace  refrayner.- 
Hates  thunderbolt,  damn'd  Murders  larum-bell, 
A  neare  deare  Kinfman  to  the  Diuell  of  hell: 
And  he  whom  SatJian  to  this  humor  bringes, 
Is  th'only  man  for  all  detefled  thinges. 




'^Om's  no  good  fellow,  nor  no  honeft  man: 

Hang  him,  he  would  not  pledge  Ra/e  halfe  a  can 
But  if  a  friend  may  fpeake  as  he  doth  thinke, 
Will  is  a  right  good  fellow,  by  this  drinke  : 
Oh  VVilliaiUy  Williani,  th'art  as  kind  a  youth, 
As  euer  I  was  drunke  with,  thats  the  trueth. 
To7n  is  no  more  like  thee,  then  Chalks  like  Cheefe 
To  pledge  a  health,  or  to  drinke  vp-fe  freefe : 
Fill  him  his  Beaker,  he  will  neuer  flinch. 
To  giue  a  full  quart  pot  the  empty  pinch. 
Heele  looke  vnto  your  water  well  enough. 
And  hath  an  eye  that  no  man  leaues  a  fnuffe. 
A  pox  of  peecemeale  drinking  (  William  fayes) 
Play  it  away,  weele  haue  no  ftoppes  and  ftayes. 
Blowne  drinke  is  odious,  what  man  can  disieft  it: 
No  faythfull  drunkard,  but  he  doth  deteft  it. 



I  hate  halfe  this ;  out  with  it,  and  an  end, 

He  is  a  buzard  will  not  pledge  his  friend,         (clofed 

But  ftandes  as  though  his  drinkes  malt-facke  were 

With,  Heer's  fye  Sir,  againfi you  arc  difpofed? 

How  fay  my  friend,  an  may  I  be  fo  bold ; 

Blowing  on's  Becre  like  broth  to  make  it  cold. 

Keeping  the  full  glaffe  till  it  fland  and  fower, 

Drinking  but  after  halfe  a  mile  an  hower, 

Vnworthy  to  make  one,  or  gaine  a  place. 

Where  boonc  companions  gage  the  pots  apace. 

A  mans  a  man,  and  therewithal!  an  ende, 

Goodfellowfhip  was  bred  and  borne  to  fpende. 

No  man  ere  faw  a  pound  of  forrow  yet. 

Could  be  alowd  to  pay  an  ounce  of  debt. 

We  may  be  heere  to  day,  and  gone  to  morrow. 

Call  mee  for  fixe  pots  more;  come  on,  hang  forrow 

Tut,  lacke  another  day.''  Why,  tis  all  one. 

When  we  are  dead,  then  all  the  world  is  gone. 

Begin  to  me  good  Ned:  What.?  haft  gon  right .^ 

Is  it  the  fame  that  tickeld  mee  laft  night  .^ 

We  gaue  the  Brewers  Diet-drinke  a  wipe; 

Braue  Malt-Tabacco  in  a  quart  pot-pipe. 

It  netteld  mee,  and  did  my  braines  infpire, 

I  haue 


1  haue  forfworne  your  drinking  fmoake  and  fier: 

Out  vpon  Cane  and  leafe  Tabacco  fmell ; 

Diuels  take  home  your  drinke;  keepe  it  in  hell. 

Carowfe  in  Cannons  Trinidado  fmoake, 

Drinke  healths  to  one  another  till  you  choake, 

And  let  the  Indians  pledge  you  till  they  fweate, 

Giue  me  the  element  that  drowneth  heate : 

Strong  fodden  Water  is  a  vertuous  thing, 

It  makes  one  fweare,  and  fwagger  like  a  King, 

And  hath  more  hidden  Vcrtne  then  you  thinke, 

For  He  maintaine,  good  liquor's  meate  and  drinke: 

Nay,  lie  go  further  with  you,  for  in  troth. 

It  is  as  good  as  meate,  and  drinke,  and  cloth; 

For  he  that  is  in  Mault-mans  Hall  inrolde, 

Cares  not  a  poynt  for  hunger  nor  for  colde. 

If  it  be  cold,  he  drinketh  till  he  fweate, 

If  it  be  hot,  he  drinkes  to  lay  the  heate: 

So  that  how  euer  it  be,  cold  or  hot. 

To  pretious  vfe  he  doth  apply  the  pot: 

And  will  approue  it  Phifically  found ; 

If  it  be  drunke  vpon  the  DanifJi  round, 

Or  taken  with  a  Pickle-herring  or  two. 

As  Flemmings  at  Saint  Katherines  vfe  to  do: 




Which  fifli  hath  vertue,  eaten  fait  and  raw, 

To  pull  drinke  to  it,  euen  as  leate  doth  ftraw. 

Oh  tis  a  verie  whetflone  to  the  braine, 

A  march-beere  fhewer  that  puts  downe  April  raine 

It  makes  a  man  adliue  to  leape  and  fpring. 

To  daunce  and  vault,  to  carrowle  and  to  fing; 

For  all  exploytes  it  doth  a  man  inable, 

Tout  leape  mens  heades,  and  caper  ore  the  table. 

To  buroe  Sacke  with  a  candle  till  he  reeles, 

And  then  to  trip-vp  his  companions  heeles, 

To  fmg  like  the  great  Organ  pipe  in  Paules, 

And  cenfure  all  men  vnder  his  controules. 

Againfl  all  commers  ready  to  maintaine, 

That  deepeft  witt  is  in  a  drunken  braine. 

I  marry  is  it;  that  it  is  he  knowes  it; 

And  by  this  drinke,  at  all  times  will  depofe  it, 

He  fayes,  that  day  is  to  a  minute  flirunke. 

In  which  he  makes  not  fome  good  fellow  drunke : 

As  for  nine  Worthies  on  his  Hoftes  wall. 

He  knowes  three  worthy  drunkards  paffc  them  all.- 

The  firft  of  them  in  many  a  Tauerne  tride, 

At  lafl  fubducd  by  Aquauitce,  dide. 

His  fecond  Worthies  date  was  brought  to  fine, 




Feafling  with  Oyfters  and  braue  Rennifh  wine. 
The  third,  whom  diuers  Dutchmen  held  full  deere, 
Was  ftabb'd  by  pickeld  Hearinges  &  ftrong  Beere. 
Well,  happy  is  the  man  doth  rightly  know, 
The  vertue  of  three  cuppes  of  Charnico, 
Being  taken  fafting,  th'only  cure  for  Flegme, 
It  worketh  wonders  on  the  braine,  extreame. 
A  pottle  of  wine  at  morning,  or  at  night, 
Drunke  with  an  Apple,  is  imployed  right, 
To  rince  the  Liuer,  and  to  purifie 
A  dead  ficke  Hart  from  all  infirmitie. 






T    lu'd  the  Philofopher  Hcraditus 

•^In  Troynoicant,  as  once  in  Ephefus : 

Were  not  Denwcrites  liue's-date  full  done, 

But  he  with  vs,  an's  glaffe  fome  fande  to  runne: 

How  would  the  firft,  dry-weepe  his  watry  eyesf 

And  th'others  laughter,  eccho  through  the  skies  F 

For  while  they  in  this  world  were  refident, 

He7'aclitus,  for  Vertiies  banifhment, 

Perform'd  a  penfiue  teare-complayning  part : 

Democrites,  he  laugh'd  euen  from  his  hart, 

Spending  his  time  in  a  continuall  left. 

To  fee  bafe  Vice  fo  highly  in  requeft. 

Weepe  Vertues  want,  and  giue  fad  fighes  too  boote ; 

Vice  rides  on  horfebacke,  Vertiie  goes  on  foote : 

Yet  laugh  againe  as  faft  on  th'other  fide, 

To  fee  fo  vile  a  fcumme  preferr'd  to  ride. 

V.  But 



But  what  wilt  helpe  to  figh  on  flntie  finne? 

T'will  not  be  mollifide  as  it  hath  binne: 

T'is  farre  more  highly  fauour'd  then  before, 

For  Sinn's  no  begger,  (landing  at  the  dore, 

That  by  his  patches  doth  his  want  difpute, 

But  a  right  welcome  Sir,  for's  coftly  fute : 

And  maskes  about  with  fuch  an  oftentation. 

World  fayes,  Vtcc-haters  loues  no  recreation. 

You  fliall  haue  fmooth-fac'd  neate  Disfimulation, 

A  true  W/iat  lacke yce?  by  his  occupation, 

Will  (/  in  tritetJi ;    Yes  trnely)  fhew  you  ware, 

All  London  cannot  with  his  flufife  compare. 

Nay,  If  you  match  it  (goe  from  him  to  any) 

Take  his  for  nothing,  pay  him  not  a  penny. 

At  this,  my  fimple  honeft  Country-man 

Takes  Trueth,  and  Trudy,  for  a  Puritan, 

And  dares  in's  confcience  fweare  he  loues  no  lying. 

But  that  they  deale  for,  he  giues  him  the  buying: 

To  let  him  haue  a  pen-worth  he  is  willing; 

Yet  for  a  groates-worth  makes  him  pay  a  fliilling, 

Giues  good-man  Trollopp  one  thing  for  another. 

And  fayes,  hee'le  vfe  him  as  he  were  his  brother: 

But  while  his  eares  with  Brothers  tearmes  he  feedes, 




He  prooueth  but  a  Coofen  in  his  deedes : 
Brotherhood  once  in  kindred  bore  the  fway, 
But  that  dates  out,  and  Coofnage  hath  the  day. 
The  foregone  ages  that  are  fpent  and  donne, 
The  olde  time  pafl,  that  calles  time  prefent  Sonne, 
Saw  better  yeeres,  &  more  plaine-meaning  howers 
Then  prefently,  or  future  following  ours. 
The  worlde  is  naught,  and  now  vpon  the  ending, 
Growes  worfe  &  worfe,  &  fardeft  off  fro  mending. 
Seauen  grand  Deuills,  bred  and  borne  in  Hell, 
Are  grac'd  like  Monarches,  on  the  earth  to  dwell; 
wher  they  comaund  the  worlds  whole  globy  roud 
Leaning  poore  Verhwus  life,  no  dwelling  ground. 
Pride  is  the  firft,  and  he  began  with  Eue, 
Whofe  cognifance  ftill's  worne  on  womens  fleeue 
He  fits  the  humours  of  them  in  their  kinde,  ^ 

With  euery  moneth,  new  liueries  to  their  minde. 
A  Buske,  a  Maske,  a  Fanne,  a  monftrous  Ruffe, 
A  boulfter  for  their  Buttockes,  and  fuch  fluffe: 
More  light  and  toyifh  then  the  wind-blown  chaffe 
As  though  they  meant  to  make  the  Deuill  laughe. 
The  next  that  marcheth,  is  the  roote  of  euill, 
Cal'd  Couetoufnefse,  a  greedy  rafcall  Deuill : 

F  2.  To 



To  fill  old  Iron  barred  chefls,  he  rakes, 
Great  rents  for  Htle  Cottages  he  takes : 
Hordeth  vp  corne,  in  hope  to  haue  a  yeare, 
Fit  for  his  cut-throate  humour,  to  fell  deare. 
Then  is  there  a  notorious  bawdie  Feend, 
Nam'd  Letcherie;  who  all  his  time  doth  fpend. 
In  two  wheeld  Coatch,  and  bafon  occupation: 
Makeing  a  vaulting  howfe  his  recreation, 
Vnto  his  doore  the  Sumner  howerly  marches: 
And  euerie  Tearme,  looke  for  him  in  the  Arches. 
Eimie's  the  fourth:  a  Deuill,  dogged  fprighted, 
In  others  harmes  he  cheifly  is  delighted ; 
His  heart  againft  all  charitie  is  fteeld, 
His  frownes  are  all  challenges  to  the  field: 
Though  nothing  croffe  him,  yet  he  murmers  euer. 
He  laughs  at  fome  mans  loffe,  or  els  laughs  neuer. 
Wratli  is  the  next,  that  fwaggers,  fightes,  &  fwears, 
In  Flcetstreete,  brauely  at  it  by  the  eares : 
Parboild  in  rage,  pepperd  in  heate  of  ire, 
Hotte  Hue  d,  and  as  cholericke  as  fier. 
Vitlers,  and  Searjants,  are  beholden  to  him, 
Till  halter  deftinie,  of  life  vndo  him. 
Sixt  lubberly  gor-belled  Deuill  great, 




Is  Gluttony,  fwolne  with  exceffe  of  meate: 
His  bellifliip  containes  th'  infatiate  gutte, 
paunch'd  liquor  proofe,  an'  twere  a  Malmfic  butte, 
Dulled  with  drinke:  this  is  his  vfuall  phraife, 
Yet  one  quart,  and  a  morfell  more,  he  fayes. 
The  laft  is  Sloth,  a  lazie  deuelifli  curre, 
So  truft  in  Idlencfse,  he  fcarce  can  fturre: 
Lumpifh  and  heauie  thoughtes,  of  Sathaus  giuing, 
That  rather  beggs,  then  labours  for  his  lining. 
Thefe  feauen,  are  feends  come  forth  of  Hells  darke 
On  earth  feduceing  foules,  mifguiding  men.      (den, 




As  the  only  known  copy  of  the  Firlt  Edition  of 
"  Tis  Merrie  when  Gofsips  meete,"  1602,  is  imperfe6t, 
the  text  of  Sig.  E  (pp.  33-40),  diftinguifhed  by  being 
enclofed  within  fquare  brackets,  is  reprinted  from  the 
Third  Edition  of  1609. 


M  erne  when 

Gofsips  meete. 


Printed  by  W.  W.  and  are  to  be  fold 
by  George  Loftus  at  the  Golden 
Ball  in  Popes-head  Alley. 
I  602. 


CHaucer,  our  famous  reiiernt  EngliJJi  Poet 
When  Canterbury  tales  he  doth  begin, 
(Suchashaue  red  his  auncientverfes  know  it) 
Found Jiore  of  Gticjls  in  South-warke  at  an  Inne, 
The  Taberd  caTd,  zuhere  he  himfelfe  the7i  lay, 
And  bare  them  Pilgrimes  company  next  day. 

A  Kentifli  iourney  they  togither  tooke, 
Towards  Canterbury  marching  nine  and  tiuentie 
Scholler,  ^;^<7fSaylor,  luith  Good-fellowes plefitie, 
But  of  blithe  Wenches  fcarcitie  he  hath  j 

Of  all  that  Crue  none  but  the  wife  of  Bathe. 

A  London  Taueriie puts  their  Inne  dozvne  then 
Wherein  three  Citizens;  Wife,  Widdow.  Mayde, 
Did kindely  meete,  andtalke,  anddrinkc  like  men. 
Andonefpent  more  then  fixe  oftotherpayde. 
Not  penny  a  quart,  dull  Ale,  nor  drowfie  Beere 
Btitfpritely  wine,  that  snakes  the  witfJiine  cleere. 

S.    R. 


A  Conference  betweene  a  Gentle- 
man  and  a  Prentice. 

Hat  lacke  you  Gentle-man  ?  fee  a 
new  Booke  new  come  foorth,  fir: 
buy  a  new  Booke  fir. 

New  Booke  fay'fl:  Faith  I  can  Gentleman. 
fee  no  prettie  thing  come  foorth  to 
my  humours  Hking.     There  are 

fome  old  Bookes  that  I  haue  more  delight  in  then 
your  new,  if  thou  couldft  helpe  me  to  them. 

Troth  fir,  I  thinke  I  can  fhewyou  as  many  of  all 
forts  as  any  in  London,  fir. 

Can'fl  helpe  mee  to  all  Greenes  Bookes  in  one  ^^^^^^^^^^^'^• 
Volume  ?   But  I  will  haue  them  euery  one,  not  any 



Sir;  I  haue  the  mofl  part  of  them,  but  I  lacke' 

Conny- catching,  and  fome  halfe  dozen  more:  but  I 

thinke  I  could  procure  them.  Therebe  in  the  Towne 

I  am  fure  can  fit  you :  haue  you  all  the  Parts  of  Paf- 

guill,  fir?  ^    ^/ 


All  the  Parts,  why  I  know  but  two,  and  thofe 
lye  there  vpon  thyftalle;  them  I  haue :  but  no  other 
am  I  yet  acquainted  with. 



A  Conference  betweene 







Oh,  fir  then  you  haue  but  his  Mad-cappc,  and 
his  Foolcs-cappe,  there  are  others  befides  thofe: 
looke  you  heere,  a  prettie  Booke  He  affure  you  fir. 
T'is  his  Melancholy,  fir:  and  ther's  another  and 
you  pleafe  fir :  heer's  Mar  all  Philofophy  of  the  laft 

What's  that  with  Najhes  name  to  it  there  ? 

Marry  fir,  t'is  Pierce  Penny-leJ/e,  fir;  I  am  fure 
you  know  it :  it  hath  beene  a  broad  a  great  while  fir. 

Oh,  I  thou  fay' ft  true,  I  know't  pasfing  well :  is 
that  it.  But  were's  the  new  Booke  thou  tel'ft  me  off, 
which  is  it? 

Marry,  looke  you  fir,  this  isaprettie  oddeconceit, 
Of  a  Merrie  meeting  heere  in  Loiidon,  betweene  a 
Wife,  a  Widdow,  and  a  Mayde. 

Merrie  meeting,  why,  that  Title  is  fhale:  Ther's 
a  Booke  cal'd,  T'is  merry  when  knaiies  meele.  And 
ther's  a  Ballad,  T'is  merry  when  Mall-men  meete: 
and  befides,  there's  an  olde  Prouerbe,  The  more  the 
merrier:  Andtherefore  I  thinkefure  I  hauefeeneit. 

You  are  deceiued  fir,  He  affure  you,  for  I  will 
bee  depofed  vpon  all  the  Bookes  in  my  Shoppe 


Gentleman  and  a  Prentice. 

that  you  haue  not  feene  it;  t'is  another  manner  of 
thing  then  you  take  it  to  bee,  fir :  For  I  am  fure  you 
are  in  Loue,  or  at  leaft  will  bee,  with  one  of  thefe 
three :  or  fay  you  deale  but  with  two,  The  Wid- 
dow  and  the  Mayde;  becaufe  the  Wife  is  another 
mans  commoditie :  is  it  not  a  prettie  thing  to  carry 
Wife,  Mayde,  and  Widdow  in  your  pocket,  when 
you  may  as  it  were  conferre  and  heare  them  talke 
togither  when  you  will  ?  nay  more,  drinke  togither: 
yea,  and  that  which  is  a  further  matter;  vtter  their 
and  all  this  in  a  quiet  and  friendly  fort,  betweene 
themfelues  and  thepinte-pot,  orthequartquantitie, 
without  any  fwaggering  or  fquabbling,  till  the 
Vintners  pewter-bearer  in  a  Boyes  humour  gaue 
out  the  laugh  at  them. 

Thou  fay'ft  well,  be-like  thy  Booke  is  a  con- 
iuring  kinde  of  Booke  for  the  Femenine  Spirits, 
when  a  man  may  rayfe  three  at  once  out  of  his 
pocket.  ^        Prentice. 

Truelyfir,  He  affure  you,  you  may  make  vertious 
vfeof  this  Booke  diuerswayes,  if  you  haue  the  grace 

A  4  to 


A  Conference. 

to  vfe  it  kindly;  as  for  enfample :  fit  alone  priuately 
in  your  Chamber  reading  of  it,  and  peraduenture 
the  time  you  beftow  in  viewing  it,  will  keepe  you 
from  Dice,  Tauerne,  Bawdy-houfe,  and  fo  foorth. 

Gentleman .  Nay,  if  your  Booke  be  of  fuch  excellent  qual- 
litie  and  rare  operation,  wee  muft  needeshauefome 
Traffique  together.  Heere  take  your  money,  i'fl 
fixe-pence  ? 

Prentice.  I  certaine  tis  no  leffe,  fir:   I  thanke  yee  fir. 

Gentleman.      What  is  this  an  Epiftle  to  it.'* 

Yes  for-footh:  yes  ti's  Dedicated.- 


TO    ALL    THE    PLEA- 

faunt  conceited  LONDON 

Gentle-women  that  are  friends  to  mirth, 
and  enemie  to  dull  Melancholy. 

To  all  the  pleafant  conceited  London 

Gentlewomem,  that  arefriendes  to  mirth, 

and  enemies  to  dull  Melancholy. 

KInde  Gentlewomen  of  the  kinder  fort, 
Which  are  nokindredvnto  dogged  natures: 

Yet  you  your  felues  become  no  currifJt  creatures; 
But  in  your  mirth  hauegoodconceipts  andwittie, 
True  London  b^^ed,  in  'Ew^dind's  famous  Cittie. 

To  yotc  this  merry  meeting  is  prefented, 
As  the  befl  worthy  for  to  entertaine  it. 
It  fcornes  the  fingers  of  the  dif contented, 
And  bids  afigge  for  them  that  do  difdaine  it: 
Tis  not  for  ftdlen  fad-ones,  peeuifJi  braue, 
That  nothing  biU  the  Afses  vertues  haue. 

The  lumpifi  leaden  7nelancholy  thought, 
Thais  next  dore-neighbour  to  a  frantique  braine, 
VVhofe  doltifJi  vnderflandhig'  s  good  for  notight, 
And  is  an  out-cafl  to  a  p  leaf  aunt  vaine: 

Smyling  as  often  as  V owXqs fleeple  datmces; 





To  the  Gentle-women  Reader^-. 

And  take  her  liquor  by  the  Dram  and  ounce 
With  Faith  I  cannot  di'inke,  cry  fie,  and  /row ne, 
Let  her  all  good  Societie  rejioinice. 
And  turne  afcuruey  barren  witted  clowne : 
She  is  too  bafe,  in  any  Commo7i-wealth, 
To  be  at  drinJdng  of  a  Gofslps  health. 

Letfuch  go  keepe  their  chamber  and  their  dyet, 
And  looke  as  pale  as  any  VdiVns  pla/ler, 
And  let  their  hujbands  neucr  Hue  in  quiet 
Vnlefse  the  Famine  and  Farthing-gale  be  inafier: 
And  let  them  be  euen  at  the  befi  they  can 
Both  ci^ofsc-confumers,  and  crofie  lucke  to  ma^z. 

Their  Hues  are  nothing  els  butfretfull  humours ; 
They  know  not  how  to  thinke  a  courteous  thought  \ 
Their  tongues  arefujolnc  with  prid'  s  corrupted  tumors 
Turne  Infide  otU-ward,  all's  (alike) fiarke  7iaught. 
Then  let  them  be  cafiieerd  and  walke  aloof e, 
Such  paltry  wenches  are  not  C\a.rret-proofe. 


To  the  Gentle-women  Readers. 

But  as  for  you  good  liquor  taking  Dames 
That proue  ifioji friendly  hiyoiLr  day ly greeting] 
A7id  do  deferue  right  louing  Gofsips  names, 
The  Pynt  and  quart  beng  loitnes  to  your  meeting 
Why  much  good  dee,  pray  fit  yee  merry  all, 
For  t'other  Pynt  to  make  it  euen,  call. 

Who  hath  to  do  with  what  you  pleafe  to  take, 
It  is  well  knowne  to  be  your  owne  you  fpend 
To  euery  foole  account  ye  need  not  make, 
You  pay  for  that  you  hatte  and  there  an  end: 
There  s  many  deale  vpon  the  fcore  for  zvine, 
When  they fJiould pay  forget  //^^  Vint'ners  Syne. 

You  are  like  Dido  that  fame  fainous  Qtieene 
That  dranke  a  health  vnto  the  wandring  Prince; 
Such  a  Carrowfe,  the  like  hath  not  beenefeene 
In  Carthage,  to  that  houre  nor  neuerfince: 
She  ply  d  him  with  the  Wine  in  golden  Cup, 
Turning  the  liquor  in ;  the  bottome  vp. 



To  the  Gentle-women  Readeri". 

So  ^/rt^  Semiramis,  King  Ninus  wife, 
VVhenJlie  obtayii d  three  daycs  to  rule  the  Crow7te 
She  prooud  a  good  companioti  all  her  life, 
And  hand  to  hand  dranke  all  her  Nobles  dozvne: 
Aftd  all  chief e  Wenches  at  a  Gosfips  fea/l, 
She  made  them  Ladyes  eitery  one  at  leafl, 

Cato,  for  wifedome  being fnrnani  d  the  Wife, 
The  learned  and  the  witty  fentence  fpeaker, 
Did  marrie  one  itifl  of  the  Gosfips  fife : 
And  in  difcretion  neuerfonght  to  breake-her: 
Though  he  the  art  of  knowledge  did  prof effe, 
She  zvouldnot  dri^ike  a  droppe  of  Wine  the  leffe. 

Therefore  youfJiall  not  greatly  need  to  care, 
For  euery  bufie  tongue  that  doth  abtfe-you: 
But  if  that  in  a  priuate  rooine  you  are, 
Andhatie  aDi^awerthatgood  Wine  will cJmfe-you, 
Withfrolique  myrth  this  meafttrejHll  applie, 
Tune  your  Tongues  low,  take  not  a  Grippe  too  hie. 


In  Commendatio7t  of  this  Booke. 

I  Cannot  tell  how  others  will  thee  like, 
But  my  conceit  is  thou  art  pafsing  wittie : 
No  viperous  tongue  thy  pleafant  vayne  will  ftrike; 
And  if  they  fhould,  (in  fayth)  the  more  t'were  pittie. 
Thou  meddl'ft  not  with  Wines  which  ciuill  bee, 
But  Widdowes  wanton ;  Maydes  of  mean'ft  degree : 
What  reafon  then  haue  enuious,  enuie  theef 

Thou  art  not  feated  in  a  fumptuous  Chaire, 

Nor  do  thy  Lines  import  of  Maieftie: 

Thy  table  is  not  deckt  with  coftly  fayre, 

Thy  feruants  at  a  call,  Anon  will  crie : 

In  deed  thy  drinke  is  (Spirit,  Vigor,  Life, 

No  fpurre  to  Enuie,  nor  no  prop  for  Strife) 

Good  Wine  which  cheer's  a  VViddow,  Mayde,  or  Wife. 

Thou  art  not  thwack't  with  baudy  riball'd  ftufife, 
Nor  dooft  thou  touch  in  ought  a  vertuous  creature, 
Thou  need'ft  not  care  though  Vice  at  thee  do  fnuffe, 
A  vicious  man  is  like  a  fyrie  Meature, 
Which  fhewes  farre  off  a  terror  to  the  eye : 
Yet  as  a  flafli  of  lightning  foone  doth  dye : 
But  thou  of  Mirth  and  not  of  heat  art  framed, 
A  Go/sips  friendly  meeting  art  thou  named. 

loh.  StraJige. 


Tis  merrie  when 

Gofsips  meete. 

The  Conference. 

GOod  dea'ne  fweet  Coufen,  lefii!  how  de'e  dof    Widdow. 
When  fhall  we  eate  another  Dagger  Pye} 
You  are  a  ftranger :  CJiriJl!  when  met  we  twof 
I  mufe  you  do  not  call  as  you  go  by: 
What  luckie  bufineffe  pra'y  hath  brought  you  hither 
That  we  fliould  meete  at  Taiierne-doore  togither, 

In  trueth  (kinde  Couffe)  my  comming's  from  the  Pawne,  Wife. 

But  I  proteft  I  loft  my  labour  theare: 

A  Gentle-man  promi'ft  to  giue  me  Lawne, 

And  did  not  meete  me,  which  he  well  fhall  heare. 

Some  lets  may  happen  in  the  way  vnknown.  vvid. 

He  hath  beene  hindred  that's  to  bide  vpon.  Wife. 

Why  how  now  Befsc,  to  paffe  vnfeene  do'ft  thinke?        Wid. 
Where  go'ft  my  wench?  (Befse)  To  fee  my  brother  5^^;/^;/. 
Heer's  Widdozv,  Wife  and  Mayde:  E'faith  lets  drinke 
A  parting  Pynt,  and  fo  God  make  vs  euen: 

Slippe  in  good  Confen,  you  are  next  the  doore, 

Won  Pynt  of  Kindneffe  and  away  no  more. 




Tis  merry  when 

Wife.      No  in  good  faith:  in  troth  I  muft  away, 

My  Husband's  forth,  our  Shoppe  muft  needes  be  tended 

Mayd.     My  Mothers  gone  to  Church,  I  cannot  flay: 
If  I  be  found  from  home,  fhee'le  be  offended. 

Widd.  He  lead  the  way  my  felfe:  Lord  heer's  aHfe, 

I  know  thefe  fhifts  fmcc  I  was  Mayde  and  Wife. 



Where  fhall  we  bee  {Vint)  I  pray  go  vp  the  ftaires. 
Good  Coufen  no,  let's  take  it  (landing  heere. 
Befhrew  me  then;  where  euery  one  repayres. 
He  none  of  that,  wee'le  haue  a  roome  my  deere. 

Come,  come,  you  looke  that  I  fhall  be  your  leader. 

Couffe,  that's  becaufe  you  are  a  nimble  treader. 

Vint.  Y'are  welcome  Gentle-ivomen :  what  Wine  drinke  yef 

Wz'fl?.  All's  one  to  me;  what  fay  you  miftris  Befse? 

Wife.  What  Wine's  the  befl  for  our  completions  thinke  ye? 

Vint.  I haueno Phificke.  (  Wife.)Y&t good  brother  gt{{Q. 

Wid.  Why, ha'fl  good  Clarretf  (Vint.)  I,the  befl  in  London. 

Wife.  Either  fill  good;  be  briefe:  or  leaue't  vndon. 



Gofsips  meete. 

Heere  Gentle-tvovicu  this  is  neate  and  pure.  Vint. 

Pra'y  tafte  it  Couffe,  you  know  good  Wine  and  Beere.  Wife. 

Good  Lord,  good  Lord  that  you  grow  fo  demure.  VVid. 

Let's  drinke  famiher,  wherefore  come  we  heere  .^ 
This  to  you  both,  Couffe  Grace,  and  miftreffe  Beffe\ 
A  full  Carowfe,  He  haue  you  pledge  no  leffe. 

T'is  pretie  wine  in  trueth;  nay  fill  your  Cup, 
Wee'le  haue  no  pingling  now  we  are  alone, 
If  here  were  men  I  would  not  drinke  it  vp 
For  twentie  pounds  my  felfe,  but  now  al's  one : 
Someime  wet  lip,  and  fmell  the  wine's  enough. 
And  leefe  a  kiffe,  rather  then  marre  our  ruffe. 

But  now  let's  barre  diffembling  to  be  merrie 
And  in  good  earneft  entertaine  our  wine : 
This  touch  and  tafte,  makes  the  fences  wearie. 
What  reafon  now  wee  fhould  be  foolifh  fine.? 
No  louer  nor  no  futer's  here  that  fees-it : 
We  haue  good  time,  and  liquor,  let's  not  leefe-it. 

C  Content 


Tis  merrie  when 

IVi/i:       Content  (fay  I)  nay  B^/sc,  He  be  thy  skinker. 
Mayd.      In  trueth  (for-footh)  a  full  cup  doth  excell, 

Good  Lord,  I  am  become  a  mightie  drinker. 
IV/d.       Another  pint :  the  fellow  vfd  vs  well. 
Wife.        I  by  my  troth  the  wine  is  good  in  trueth, 

Fill  t'other  pint.  (  Wid.)  Pre'thee  go  right  fweet  youth. 

VVid.     Now  Cuffe,  heere's  to  our  friendes  in  Soper-laiie. 

Wife.      Let  come  fweete  Coufen,  I  will  pledge  them  all. 
Wid.      But  Iefu-Chrifi\  what  is  become  oi  lane? 
Wife.     Oh,  flie  is  gone  to  dwell  by  London-ivall. 
Wid.  Good  God  (\\\  footh^  I  neuer  was  more  merry 

Then  when  we  both  did  dwell  in  Bucklers-berry. 

Now  heau'nly  Chrift,  how  pleafant  we  haue  bin; 
But  yet  won  time  we  had  a  cruell  ftirre, 
A  Drapers  man  and  fhe  were  mighty  in. 
Wife.    I  pray,  what  flie  with  him,  or  he  with  her.^ 
Wid.  Fayth  both  in  loue;  well  lanes  an  honeft  Mayde, 

But  Lord  the  prankes  that  we  mad-wenches  playde. 



Gofsips  meete. 

My  Miftreffe  got  my  Maifter  to  confent  i 

One  Midfommer,  fliee  beeing  very  ill, 
To  leaue  the  Cittie,  and  goe  lie  in  Kent,  ' 

By  which  good  hap  we  had  the  houfe  at  will. 
There  Roger,  lane,  and  I,  met  euery  night, 
Heere  Befse:  good  brother  fill's  a  quart  of  White. 


No  Mufique  in  the  euenings  we  did  lacke,  VVid. 

Such  dauncing,  Couffen,  you  would  hardly  thinke  it : 

Whole  pottles  of  the  daintieft  burned  Sacke, 

T'would  do  a  Wench  good  at  the  hart  to  drinke  it, 
Such  ftore  of  tickling  Galliardes,  I  do  vow 
Not  an  olde  daunce,  but  I/ian  come  kiffe-me  now. 

And  let  them  talke  and  prayfe  the  marriage  life 

To  be  full  of  pleafure,  as  they  fay, 

I  that  haue  liu'd  both  Widdow,  Mayde,  and  Wife, 

And  try'd  all  pleafures  euery  kinde  of  way 

Know  what  to  doo :  and  will  maintaine  this  ftill. 
That  of  the  three,  Maydes  haue  the  world  at  will. 

C  2 



Tis  merrie  when 

Wife.       E'faith  they  haue,  and  haue  not,  for  you  know : 
(Put  to  the  doore  hers  none  but  friends  you  fee) 
They  fay  loue  creepeth  where  it  cannot  go, 
Maydes  muft  be  married,  leaft  they  mar'd  fhould  bee. 
I  will  be  fworne,  before  I  faw  fifteene, 
I  wifh't  that  I  my  wedding  day  had  feene. 

Tufli  tittle,  tatle :  Bcfse,  it  muft  be  done. 
My  coufin  thinkes  not  as  her  words  import 
I  could  not  for  a  world  haue  liu'd  a  Nun: 
Oh,  flefli  is  frayle,  we  are  a  fmfuU  fort. 

I  know  that  beauteous  wenches  are  enclinde, 
To  harbour  hanfomc  men  within  their  minde. 

Coufen  you  meane  becaufe  a  Mayde  is  free, 
Hauing  no  head  to  keepe  her  body  vnder 
She  Hues  a  life  not  bound  fo  much  as  wee, 
The  ieft  is  fimple  and  it  makes  me  wonder 

That  you  which  haue  with  Venus  fports  beene  fed, 
Should  put  fuch  errours  in  a  Maydens  hed. 


Gofsips  meete. 

Nay,  but  I  pray  you  vnderftand  my  reafon : 
The  youthfull  fauours  that  they  do  attaine, 
For  this  you  know  that  all  the  woing  feafon 
Sutors  with  gifts  continuall  feeke  to  gaine 

Their  Miflreffe  loue,  to  ioine  with  their  afife6lion 
With  words  and  Lyues,  humbled  in  all  fubie6lion. 


That's  very  true,  the  bountie  of  their  Loues 
Are  lib'rall  ftill  with  many  a  kinde  refpe6l. 
In  confcience  I  had  tweentie  paire  of  Gloues 
When  I  was  Mayde  giu'n  to  that  effefl; 

Garters  Kniues,  Purfes,  Girdles,  ftore  of  Rings, 
And  many  a  hundred  daintie  pretie  things. 


Well,  Coufen  well,  thofe  dales  in  date  be  paft,  Wid. 

T'is  very  true  with  vs  that  world  doth  change.  Wife. 

Here  ftands  a  Cup  of  wine,  pra'y  who  dranke  laflf 

Why  that  did  I  to  Befse:  Lord!  Maydes  be  ftrange,       Wid. 
They  looke  for  thoufand  words  of  fweet  and  pray 
And  take  few  things  to  which  they  fay  not  nay. 




Tis  merry  when 

Maydc.    T'is  Maydcns  modeftie  to  vfe  denyall, 

A  willing  offer  commeth  twice  or  thrice. 
Wid.        Put  here's  a  cup  of  Wine  doth  ftand  for  tiyall, 
Your  Mayden-fhip  takes  liquor  in  too  nice: 

Praymende  your  fault,  kinde^r/ir.wee'le  none  of  that, 
Wine  and  Virginitie  kept  ftale,  drinke  flat; 

Maydc.    You  are  to  blame,  in  trueth  we  drinke  like  men, 

Now  by  my  truely  I  am  e'ne  afliamed. 
Wid.       Tut  wench,  God  knowes  when  we  fhall  meete  agen : 
Nor  neede  we  feare  of  husbandes  to  be  blamed. 
Our  cent  of  Wine,  fliall  not  by  them  be  felt, 
The  married  Wife  in  kisfrnGT  will  be  fmelt. 

Wife.      Oh  Cuffe,  if  that  be  all  the  worft,  I  care  not, 
He  take  allowance  euen  with  the  beft : 
This  cup  to  you,  you  fhall  not  fay  I  dare  not : 
My  Husband  fmell ;  oh  Icfu,  there's  a  left, 
I  care  as  little  for  my  Husbands  fmclling. 
As  any  Wench  this  hourc  in  London  dwelling. 


Gofsips  meete. 

T'is  well  you  need  not:  fure  I  take  him  kinde.  IVid. 

As  kinde  a  man  as  woman  need  to  lie-with.  Wife. 

Would  I  as  well  were  fitted  to  my  minde,  Mayde. 
A  louing  Man  who  would  not  Hue  and  die  with/ 

My  Husband  did  to  other  Loues  encline.  vvid. 

Nay,  mine  is  conftant  by  this  cup  of  Wine,  Wife. 

Now  Chrift,  how  Wines  ^xvA.  Widdoives  \.2kQ  oczdX\ows> 
T'in-large  their  Husbandes  credites,  or  difprayfe: 
In  fome  match  men,  in  fome  the  women  ftrayes : 
And  when  they  meete,  they  do  difcourfe  and  fcan 
About  whofe  choyce  hath  got  the  kindeft  man. 


Alas  (good  Befse)  thou  fpeak'ft  thou  know'ft  not  what, 
Thy  iudgement  is  not  worth  a  Wallnut-fhell : 
There's  an  old  graue  Prouerbe  tell's  vs  that 
Such  as  die  Maydes,  doe  all  lead  Apes  in  hell : 
I  rather  while  I  Hue,  would  yeerely  marry, 
Then  waighting-mayde  on  fi.ich  preferment  tarry. 





Tis  merry  when 

Mayde.    That  Prouerbs  proofe  can  do  you  little  Head : 

But  married  Wines  oft  giue  and  take  fuch  claps, 
Taurus  fo  rules  and  guides  their  husbands  head, 
That  euery  night  they  fleepe  in  Horn-worke  caps : 
I  pra'y  what  Prouerbe  is  it  that  allowes 
The  Diuels  pi6lure  on  your  husbands  browes. 

Wid.       Enough  you  wrangling  wenches,  fie  for  fliame : 
Take  me  in  drinke,  leaue  out  our  difputation. 
Pra'y  brother,  fill  a  pynt  more  of  the  fame. 
Wife.       Coufen,  belike  you  meane  to  drinke  in  fafliion, 
We  fhall  be  trim'd  and  haue  our  wits  refin'de 
E'faith  we  fhall,  if  you  may  haue  your  minde. 

Wid.       Now  to  your  husband  Couffe,  this  full  Carrowfe. 
Wife.       In  trueth  I  pleadge  you,  and  I  thanke  you  truelie; 

To  all  our  friends  Befsc,  at  your  mothers  houfe, 
Mayde.    Thankes  gentle  Miftreffe  Grace,  I  dranke  but  newlie. 
Wife.  Beflircw  my  heart  this  wine  is  not  the  worft. 

Wid.  Good-faith  me-thinkes  t'is  better  then  the  firft. 



Gofsips  meete. 

But  Couffen,  pre-thee  art  not  yet  toward  marriage? 
Truely  I  am,  and  am  not  as  it  ftands : 
A  Gentle-man  of  pafsing  gallant  carr'age 
Doth  ply  me  hard,  won  that  ha's  pretie  lands: 
Hanfomer  man  neucr  in  fhooe  did  tread, 
By  this  good  drinke,  a  kinder  ne're  broke  bread. 


To  try  his  loue  fometimes  I  faine  me  ficke, 
And  by  this  Candle  he  will  fit  and  weepe. 
Now  by  my  troth  that's  e'ne  my  Good-mans  tricke, 
Let  me  complaine :  Chriji  \v\v7i\.  a  quoyle  heele  keepe. 
Asking  what  ailes  my  fweet-heart,  tell  mec  honnie, 
My  Loue,  my  Doue,  my  Lambe,  my  pretty  Connie. 


See,  fee,  how  fa'y:  but  firra  Couffen  than  Widd. 

I  force  a  figh  with  halfe  a  douzen  grones : 

This  comes  (fayes  he)  to  lie  without  a  man.  Wife. 

My  Husband  fayes,  kinde  Loue  thou  breed'fl  yong  bones 
Well  loJin  (fay  I)  you  iefl  to  fee  my  paine, 
Then  by  this  wine,  the  foole  will  weepe  againe. 




Tis  merrie  when 

JVzd.        Coiiffe,  you  are  happie  you  haue  fuch  a  one, 

Make  much  of  him :  a  iewell  Wench  thou  haft : 
But  I  had  won  would  let  me  grone,  and  grone, 
The  verieft  Clowne;  but  well,  tis  gone  and  paft. 
If  he  had  liu'd  Couffen,  I  do  proteft 
I  would  haue  done  a  thing:  well,  let  that  reft. 

He  neuer  truft  a  red-hair'd  man  againe, 
If  I  ftiould  hue  a  hunered  yeeres  that's  flat, 
His  turne  can  not  be  feru'd  with  one  or  twaine; 
And  how  can  any  woman  fuffer  that.? 

I  know  t'is  better  to  take  wrong  then  do  it, 
But  yet  in  fuch  a  cafe  flefh  leades  vs  to  it. 

Mayd      Why,  is  a  red-hair'd  man  fo  bad  of  life.? 
What  fay  you  to  a  yellow  flaxen  haire.? 
Wid.      Not  won  among  a  hundred  trew  t'his  Wife, 

That  conftant  loyall-harted  thoughts  doth  beare. 
They  loue,  but  how.?  as  did  the  youth  of  Greece, 
From  euery  Wench  to  gaine  a  golden  Fleece. 



Gofsips  meete. 

And  they  whofe  mindes  haue  this  corrupt  infeclion, 
(Becaufe  I  would  haue  Befse  to  take  good  hcede) 
Are  fuch  as  be  call'd  Sanguine  of  complexion, 
I  pre-thee  Girle,  let  no  fuch  Sutor  fpeede. 
I  fpeake  it  by  experience  and  good  tr}^all, 
Of  all  haire-colours  giue  that  haire  deniall. 

A  Nnt-browne  colour,  or  an  Aboiirnc  either 
May  both  do  well,  and  are  to  be  allow'd; 
A  Waxen-coXowx  hath  no  great  fault  neither, 
But  for  a  ragged  chin  I  firme  haue  vow'd, 
It  fhall  by  me  perpetuall  be  abhor'd, 
And  with  my  heeles  I  fcorne  it  by  the  Lord. 

Amanwhofe  beard  feemes  fcar'dwith  fprites  t'haue  bin. 
That  wants  the  bountious  grace,  length,  bredth.&thicknes 
And  hath  no  difference  twixt  his  nofe  and  chin, 
But  all  his  haires  haue  got  the  falling  ficknes, 

Whofe  fore-front  lookes  like  lack-an  Apes  behinde. 
She  that  can  loue  him  beares  a  fcuruey  minde. 

D  2 

I  pray 


Tis  merrie  when 

IVz/e.       I  pra'y  what  fay  you  to  my  husband  then/' 
Z'ZHd.      The  rar'ft  completion  that  you  can  deuife; 

The  golden  Sentence  proues  blacke-bearded  men 
Are  precious  pearles  in  beauteous  womens  eies : 
Their  loyall  hearts  none  iuftly  can  controule, 
I  loue  a  blacke-man,  coufen,  with  my  foule. 

Wife.       Let  Bejfc  note  this,  for  when  I  was  a  Mayd, 
And  to  the  loue  of  men  began  to  bow, 
I  gaue  great  eare  to  that  which  women  fayd, 
When  they  Avcre  merry  met  as  we  are  now : 
Yea,  and  my  mother  did  perfwade  me  too, 
Wench  f would  flie  fayj  note  what  your  elders  doo. 

That  Leffon  without  booke  was  ftraight  mine  owne, 
Shee  needed  not  repeate  it  ouer  twice; 
I  quickly  fmelt  what  t'was  to  liue  alone, 
What  to  be  kinde  in  Loue,  what  to  be  nice. 
Vint.  Anan,  anan;  what  i'ft  (iox-{oo\\\)  you  lacke/ 

vvid.  Sauceages,  brother,  and  a  pynt  of  Sacke. 



Gofsips  meete. 

No  more  in  fadneffe,  now  t'is  time  to  part,  Mayd. 
In  confcience  it  is  fixe  a  clocke  at  leaft. 

Wee'le  haue  a  reckoning  after  t'other  quart.  Wid. 

They  fay  enough's  as  good  as  any  feaft.  Mayde. 

Indeede  my  wench,  enough's  a  feaft  that's  right.  VVid. 

But  we  want  that,  which  He  alone  all  night. 

You  both  may  mend  that  matter  when  you  will,  Wife. 

Whofe  fault  i'ft  but  your  owne,  you  do  not  marrie.^ 

God  made  not  Bcffe  to  Hue  a  Mayden  ftill, 

Faith  t'is  my  mothers  counfell  that  I  tarrie:  Mayd. 

She  alwaies  faies  Avhen  yong  men  come  a  woing, 
Stay  daughter,  ftay:  you  muft  not  yet  be  doing. 

Now  in  good  faith  your  mother  is  to  blame  Wid. 

To  wifh  fo  womanly  a  wench  to  ftay : 

She  knowes  fifteene  may  husband  iuftlie  clame. 

Fifteene!  why  I  was  that  laft  Lady -day:  Mayde. 

You  are  deceiu'd  for  I  am  no  fuch  youth, 
I  am  fixteene,  when  next  March  comes  in  truth. 




Tis  merry  when 

Wtd.       Beflirew  my  hart  but  that's  a  goodly  time, 
I  would  to  CJiriJl  that  I  could  fay  fo  too, 
I  would  not  linger  out  my  youthfull  prime, 
Nor  ftand  and  aske  my  mother  what  to  doo. 
No,  I  could  tell  I  trow,  as  well  as  fliee, 
To\\'ard  BatcJicllers  how  Mavdens  ought  to  bee. 

Mayde.    I,  I  know  fome  thing  too:  but  what  of  that. ^ 

Our  Parents  willes  (you  know)  muft  be  obay'd. 
Wife.       Well,  fay  they  muft:  yet  fliall  I  tell  you  what 
A  SchoUer  tolde  me  when  I  was  a  Mayde : 

Of  marriage  knot  they  haue  no  power  to  breake-it : 
Now  by  this  Sacke,  a  Learned  man  did  fpeake-it. 

Wid.        T'was  nothing  but  found  trueth  which  he  did  tell, 

For  Husbands,  we  our  Parents  muft  forsake. 
Wife.       Were  this  Wine  burn'd  Couffen,  it  would  do  well. 
Wid.     Fayth  I  was  thinking  on  it  when  you  fpake. 
Mayde.        My  mother  fayes  burnt  Sacke  is  good  at  night. 
wid.  A'my  word  Beffe,  your  mother's  in  the  right. 



Gofsips  meete. 

Brother,  I  pre-thee  let  this  Wine  be  burn'd,  Wife. 

And  fee  (good  youth)  the  Sauceages  be  ready, 

To  one  good  meaning  our  three  mindes  be  turn'd, 

When  Sacke  is  fugerd  t'will  not  be  fo  heady. 

We  drinke  fo  much  my  cheekes  are  pasfing  warme.  Mayde 
Sweete  Elfabeth,  good  Wine  can  do  no  harme.  Wife 

Yet  truft  me  Couffen,  when  I  was  a  Girle, 
For  Tauerne,  no  Young-man  could  get  me  to-it 
Neither  for  loue,  gold,  precious  ftones,  or  pearle: 
My  tongue  deney'd  when  heart  Inclyn'd  to  do  it. 
For  by  my  fayth  I  euer  lou'd  good  Wine, 
But  oft  refrain'd,  I  was  fo  Maydeu-fine. 

Well  wot  you  Bejfe,  to  whom  He  drinke  too  now,  VVta. 

Sure  as  I  liue,  vnto  your  fifter  Sifse, 

And  to  the  Youth  that  did  the  Angell  bow. 

And  fent  it  for  a  token :  trueth  halfe  this : 
He  loues  you  both,  vpon  my  word  he  doth, 
Refolue  it,  or  you  wrong  him  Befse,  in  foth. 

D  4  His 


Tis  merry  when 



His  loue  to  me  I  little  do  regard, 

Perhaps  my  fifter  doth  refpefl  it  more. 

Then  Elfabetli  in  truth  you  vfe  him  hard. 

How  hard.^  he  had  his  anfwcre  long  before; 
I  will  not  loue  him  what  fo  e're  befall, 
He  haue  a  hanfome  man,  or  none  at  all. 


Go  too,  go  too,  his  riches  do  excell. 

A  Fig  for  wealth,  t'is  perfon  I  affe6l. 

You  are  a  foole:  he  will  maintaine  you  well, 

I  tell  you,  I  a  proper  man  refpe6l : 

De'e  thinke  that  I  with  fuch  a  dwarffe  will  ftore-me, 
That  fliall  difsrracc  me  when  he  g-oes  before-me.^ 

He  haue  a  comelie  man  from  head  to  foote, 
1  whofe  neate  limbes  no  blemifh  can  be  fpi'd 
Whofe  leg  fhall  grace  his  ftocking  or  his  boote, 
And  weare  his  rapier  manlie  by  his  fide: 
With  fuch  a  one  my  humour  doth  agree, 
He  fliall  be  welcome  to  my  bed  and  me. 



Gofsips  meete. 

\Beffe,  and  th'art  wife,  hold  that  opinion  ftill, 
For  were  /  to  begin  the  world  to  morrow, 
In  fuch  a  choice,  /would  my  minde  fulfill: 
And  fo  /  drinke  to  thee.-  come  on,  hang  forrow: 
Wench,  let  it  be  thy  rule  at  any  hand, 
To  make  thy  choyce  euen  as  thy  mind  doth  fland. 

Many  do  match  (as  true  as  this  is  Wine) 
With  fome  Dunce,  Clown,  or  Gul,  they  care  not  who, 
For  no  caufe  but  to  be  maintained  fine, 
and  haue  their  wils  in  what  they  pleafe  to  do; 
When  their  hearts  loues  as  much  in  other  things. 
As  there  is  Vertue  in  mine  Apron-ftrings. 

Faith  tis  too  true.     Fough,  what  a  filthy  fmell .''  ividdow 

as  fure  as  death  /  am  e'ne  like  to  choke, 

Methinkes  /  feele  my  felfe  not  very  well.  Mavde 

Now  out  vpon't  it  is  Tobacco  fmoke:  Wife 

Knocke  Cozen  knocke,  heere  is  a  filthy  fmother. 
For  Gods  loue  quicke ;  fome  luniper  fweet  Brother. 




Tis  merrie  when 

widdoiv     There  cannot  be  a  more  detefted  ftinke, 

And  yet  you  fee  how  dainty  many  make  it. 

Mayde.      As  true  as  this  is  Wine  that  I  do  drinke, 

/would  not  for  a  Crowne  kiffe  one  that  takes  it: 

Wife.  My  Husband  is  fo  kind  an  honeft  man, 

That  heele  touch  none,  if  I  fay,  Do  not  Ian. 

Widdow.  His  commendations  certaine  is  the  more, 
With  one  another  we  are  bound  to  beare, 
He  beares  with  you,  fauour  you  him  therefore. 
Wife.         Surely  I  do,  as  both  of  you  fliall  heare; 

T'is  death  to  him  to  fmell  but  a  Goofe-pye, 
and  therefore  Goofe-flefh  neuer  do  I  buy. 

Widdoiv.  That's  a  ftrange  matter  fure ;  I  loue  a  Goofe, 

But  for  a  Wood-cocke  I  did  neuer  care, 
wife.         When  I  eat  Pigge  it  makes  my  body  loofe, 
Mayde.      I  loue  a  tender  Rabbet,  or  a  Hare, 

A  Turkey-pie,  or  Pigion  for  a  need : 

But  on  groffe  Butchers  flefli  I  cannot  feed. 



Gofsips  meete. 

Couffen,  when  I  lay  in  of  my  firft  Boy, 
Lord  how  I  long'd  to  eate  a  Partridge  wing, 
And  when  it  came,  my  ftomacke  had  no  ioy, 
But  all  my  minde  was  of  another  thing.  (buy, 

Thou  fhalt  lacke  nought  (quoth  lohn)  that  gold  will 
Why  then  (fweet-hart)  lets  haue  a  Cherry-pye. 


\{  London  yeeld  it  {Lone)  thou  ihalt  not  lacke. 
So  kind,  methinkes  I  heare  him  flill  repeat  it.- 
But  hafling  downe  the  ftaires,  I  cald  him  backe, 
Tis  full  of  ftones  (quoth  I)  I  cannot  eat  it.- 
With  that  he  kift  me,  and  began  to  weepe, 
And  I  being  fomewhat  heauy  fell  afleepe. 

But  then  I  fell  into  the  ftrangeft  dreame 
Of  fire  and  water,  that  you  euer  heard : 
And  /  was  troubled  Couffe  the  moft  extreame 
With  one  all  night,  that  had  a  yellow  beard : 

And  with  a  Cocke  had  neither  fpurres  nor  combe. 
And  with  the  little  Bitch  you  haue  at  home. 




Tis  merrie  when 

Widdow.  Why  furely  now  you  talke  of  dreames  in  fadneffe, 
I  dream't  laft  night  two  Cattes  did  leape  and  skip, 
Playing  together  with  great  fport  and  gladneffe, 
Vntill  one  came  to  part  them  with  a  whip; 
I  laughed  that  my  heart  did  ake  thereat, 
To  fee  the  foolifli  fellow  whip  the  Cat. 

Wife.        A  pretty  left:  But  Bcjjfc  to  whom  de'e  drinke? 
/fpy  a  fault,  you  do  your  felfe  forget; 
The  Wine  ftands  waiting  in  the  cup  me  thinke, 
Prethee  my  Wench,  lets  haue  our  lips  kept  wet. 

I  pledge  thee  my  Girle :  nay  fweet  now  drinke  it  vp, 
A  Go/sips  round,  that's  euery  one  a  Cup. 


Next  houfe  to  mine  a  Gentlezuonian  lies, 
Wilt  pleafe  you  Gefitletvoinen  heare  a  fong.-* 
Good  fellow,  now  we  are  about  to  rife : 
Where  ftayes  the  Vintners  feruice  Boy  fo  long.-* 
Shut  dore  pray  Coffen  after  that  bafe  groome, 
Wecle  haue  no  fidling  Knaue  difgrace  our  roome. 



Gofsips  meete. 

Well,  go  to  Couffe,  go  forward  with  the  reft, 

What  reft  I  pray?  I  know  not  what  you  meane; 

No,  why  of  her  that  is  your  neighbours  gueft? 

T'is  true,  t'is  true,  my  gallant  filken  Oueane : 
I  had  forgot  the  talke  I  was  about. 
The  Fidler  comes  me  in,  and  puts  me  out. 




Why  flie  forfooth  (an't  pleafe  you)  is  fo  fine. 
She  neuer  drinkes  vnleffe  ftie  dine  or  fup. 
And  then  flie  hath  her  penny  pot  of  wine; 
Marry  and  gip,  fome  body  take  her  vp: 

Some  Do6lors  wench  a'my  word  for  her  skill, 
That  takes  in  Diet  by  the  dram  and  pill. 


My  Husband  doth  alow  me  He  be  fworne, 
A  pint  a  meale  as  true  as  we  fit  heere : 
I  tell  you  (as  my  friends)  I  would  e'ne  fcorne 
To  dine  or  fup  without  it  in  a  yeere: 

He  knowes  (efaith)  to  pleafe  me  in  my  diet, 
Or  for  a  month  I  fhall  be  out  of  quiet. 




Tis  merry  when 

Then  if  he  fees  me  out  of  patience  once, 
Oh  Chrift,  how  we  will  feeke  to  amends, 
Then  do  I  figh  to  grieue  him  for  the  nonce, 
Wherewith,  hee'le  kiffe  and  fay,  Sweet  loue  be  frends. 
I  let  him  kiffe,  and  fpeake  me  faire  a  while. 
And  when  the  fallen  humor's  paft,  I  fmile. 



I  cannot  chufe  but  praife  thy  pretty  wit. 

It  is  the  very  courfe  that  I  would  take, 

Thou  entertain'ft  his  humour  pafling  fit. 

Why,  I  thought  men  had  lou'd  for  kindneffe  fake? 
Alas  plaine  wench,  God  knowes  thou  art  not  in  it. 
She  that  will  fettle  loue,  mufl  this  way  win  it. 

Mayde.      Indeed  I  neuer  heard  that  tricke  before, 

I  thought  mens  loue  muft  ftill  be  fed  with  kindneffe, 
Wife.         God  helpe  thee  Bcffe,  not  one  among  a  fcore, 
That  poore  opinion  is  but  Maidens  blindneffe: 
In  thefe  things  thou  knoweft  little,  it  appeares, 
But  it  will  come,  for  now  thou  com'ft  to  yeares. 



Gofsips  meete. 

Why  woman,  if  we  feeme  nc^  in  behauiour 
As  though  we  card  not  greatly  to  confort, 
They'le  thinke  forfooth  they  do  vs  mighty  fauour, 
And  we  muft  feeme  beholden  for  our  fport; 
So  beft  in  ftrangeneffe  we  our  meanings  hide, 
which  makes  them  loue,  &  giue  good  words  befide. 

This  for  inftru6lion  Beffe,  I  haue  difclofed, 
Intruth  I  yeeld  more  thankes  then  may  be  told, 
Heere's  to  you  both  again  ft  you  are  difpofed. 
Lord,  while  you  talke  the  Sauceages  wax  cold. 
Come  draw  your  kniues:  fall  to,  I  pray  begin, 
You  know  cold  Puddings  are  not  worth  a  pin. 


How  pretty  fait  they  taft :  but  tis  the  better.  Wife. 

Moft  rare  efayth  to  drinke  Sacke  withall,  ividdow. 

Bejfe,  pray  go  too,  will  you  remaine  my  detter? 
Why  de'e  not  pledge  me?  troth  and  fayth  you  fliall. 

Nay  fare  all  this :  truft  me  t'is  more  then  need,  Mayde. 

In  truth,  in  fadneffe,  now  in  very  deed. 




Tis  merry  when 

Widdoic.  Well,  if  you  do  not  Beffc  you  do  me  wrong, 

You  fhall  not  be  forfworne  for  twenty  pound, 
Maydc.      How't  burnes  my  belly  as  it  goes  along, 
Wife.         My  turne  is  next,  and  fo  it  paffeth  round  ; 
Looke  Geiitleivomen  is  it  full  de'e  thinke  ? 
I  fcorne  to  be  intreated  take  my  drinke. 

Widdoi^.'.  Why  laugh  you  Coffen?  fweet  lets  know, 
Mayde.      An  odde  conceite  /  thinke  on  makes  me  fmile. 
When  I  am  forth  in  company,  or  fo. 
How  by  the  dram  I  take  in  Wine  that  while, 
Kifsing  the  Cup,  vpon  the  Wine  I  frowne, 
And  fo  with  fmelling  it,  /  fet  it  downe. 

Some  fimple  fooles  (all  manners  for  his  wit) 
Comes  on  me  with  the  French  falute  mofl:  quaintly, 
And  fayes.  Sweet,  mend  your  draft,  you  drink  no  whit, 
Introth  you  fhew  your  felfe  too  mayden-dainty; 

Drinke  better  Lady  at  my  kind  requeft, 

/  fay  fweet  Sir,  /  can  no  wine  digeft. 

Marry  wee'le] 


Gofsips  meete. 

Marry  wee'le  beare  you  witnes  when  you  will. 
He  take  my  oath  on  twentie  Table-bookes, 
The  lafl  full  cup  hath  made  you  mightie  ill: 
Some  Roffa-folis :  fee  how  pale  flie  lookes. 

Another  pynt  of  that  fhe  tafted  laft, 

To  breake  winde  with,  and  then  the  worft  is  paft. 


Good  (efayth)  good,  my  Cuffe  is  in  the  vaine,  Wife. 

He  match  you  for  it,  wench,  I  hold  a  Crowne, 

Fill  none  vnleffe  you'le  drinke  about  againe. 

Content,  fay  I,  you  cannot  put  me  downe.  Wid. 

How  fay'fb  thon  Befsc,  fhall  it  be  fo  girle,  fpeakef 
If  I  make  one,  pray  God  my  girdle  breake.  Mayd. 

Talke  not  fo  loude,  what  Avill  folke  thinke  that  hearesf  Wife. 

The  very  Vintners  Boy  laugh'd  when  you  fpake. 

Had  I  feene  that,  I  would  haue  found  his  eares:  Widd. 

Why  maifter  Boy,  wee'le  pay  for  that  Ave  take, 
Bafe  groome,  I  fay,  although  thou  tak'fl  me  mellow, 
Know  fmooth  fac'd  Knaue,I  am  your  Miftreffe  fellow, 

F  Good 


Tis  merry  when 

IVlfe.       Good  Lord!  what  ayles  my  coufen  be  fo  hot/ 
Tufh,  let  it  paffe,  you  know  Boyes  fawcie  be. 
Widd.        It  fhall  not  be  forgiuen  nor  forgot: 

Your  maifter  Hues  (you  flaue)  by  fuch  as  we. 
Call  for  a  reck'ning :  let's  know  what's  to  pay, 
By  heau'ns,  I  fcorne  a  minute  more  to  ftay. 

Brother,  I  pra')',  is  it  your  Maifters  minde. 

Your  fellow  Boy  fhould  flout  guefts  when  they  drinke.i^ 

yjfif        My  maifters  will  is  for  to  vfc  you  kinde. 

W/rt'         T'will  fcath  him  more  my  friend,  then  he  do  think.- 

Whatisthyname.^(Z^/;//.)  Forfooth,  an'tpleafeyee,^'?^///. 

Wid  WhatCountreyman.^CZ^////.)  Forfooth,atFifhft:reet  hill. 


William,  we  come  not  heere  to  be  abufed, 
There  are  more  Tauerns  befide  your's  in  towne, 
Wee  can  go  where  we  might  be  courteous  vfed, 
In  truth  forfooth  my  fellowes  but  a  Clowne. 
William,  we  haue  fome  credit  where  we  dwell : 
And  William,  Boyes  fliould  vfe  their  betters  well. 


Gofsips  meete. 

For  William,  fay  the  cafe  were  but  your  owne 
And  that  you  were  as  we  are  at  this  feafon 
With  friends  a  drinking  where  you  are  not  knowne 
Would  you  be  flouted f  {Vint.)  By  my  faith  no  reafon. 

William,  thou  anfwer'ft  Hke  a  Youth  of  fence,  VVid. 

For  furely  VZHlliam,  t'is  a  great  offence. 

And  William,  I  would  hauc  you  vnderftand, 
We'le  pay  your  Maifter  for  the  wine  we  haue: 
O  Lord  forfooth,  as  fure  as  in  my  hand. 
William^  wee  come  not  to  entreat  or  craue : 
Wee  met  togither  William,  at  your  doore, 
And  entred  for  a  pynt,  which  falles  out  more. 


William,  we  will  not  be  beholding  (fee-yee) 
Vnto  your  Maifter  more  then  to  another: 
T'is  for  good  Wine  and  welcome,  we  come  tee-yee, 
Or  farewell  William,  and  you  were  my  brother. 
And  therefore  William,  this  abufe  we  fcorne, 
For  we  are  London  Gentle-women  borne. 

F   2 





Tis  merry  when 

W/V/.        Good  William,  know :  heer's  neither  Cifse  nor  A'^/^, 
Vint.        No,  fo  God  helpe  me,  I  do  fee  you  are  not. 
W/rt^.        Thinkes  favvce  your  fellow,  we  vfe  Parrots  prate, 
William,  our  talke  is  honeft,  and  we  care  not 

If  all  the  Parifh  were  in  place  to  heare  it. 

No,  by  this  Cup.  (  Vint.)  Efaith  you  need  not  fweare  it. 

Vint.        Forfooth,  I  truft  your  wine  was  very  good. 
^Mid.         William,  I  grant,  the  wine  was  not  amiffe, 

But  that  bafe  Boy,  hath  vext  me  to  the  blood, 
A  man,  William,  would  neere  haue  ofifer'd  this: 
The  Prouerbe  fayes  t'is  manners  that  doth  make: 
William,  Giue  giiejls  good  words  for  manners  fake. 

William,  when  cam'ft  thou  in  this  houfe  to  dwell 
Forfooth  about  three  yeeres  agon,  laft  May. 
William,  ferue  God,  and  pleafe  thy  mafter  well, 
T'will  be  thine  owne  vviUiam,  an  other  day. 
Your  maifter's  marri'd,  vvilliam,  is  he  not.^ 
Yes  forfooth,  yes,  a  miftreffe  I  haue  got. 



Gofsips  meete. 

William,  your  Maifter  hath  no  children  by-her.^  V^iddozv. 

No,  forfooth,  but  I  thinke  flie  be  with  childe,  Vin. 

To  haue  a  Boy  fhe  hath  a  great  defire. 

So  would  not  I,  William,  for  Boyes  be  wilde,  W/^. 

Though  Girles  cry,  William,  till  they  be  bepift, 
William,  giue  me  a  Girle,  take  boyes  who  lift. 

Coufen,  you  do  forget  your  felfe,  me-thinke, 

When  Befse  and  I  come  home,  we  ftiall  be  chid.  Wife. 

Pray  fill  the  cup  to  William,  let  him  drinke.  V\liddozu, 

In  trueth  forfooth  t'is  the  laft  thing  I  did.  Vint. 

Good   William,  drinke:  I  pree-thee  William,  doo.  Wife. 

Forfooth  I  pledge  you,  and  I  thanke  ye  too.  Vint. 

William,  let's  know  to  pay  and  theres  an  end. 
Marry,  forfooth  three  ftiillings  and  a  penny. 
William,  lay  downe  their  mony,  none  fhall  fpend 
Coufen,  and  Befse,  pra'y  do  not  offer  any. 

Harke,  Bow-bell  rings,  before  the  Lord  tis  late, 
William,  good  night,  pree-thee  take  vp  thy  plate. 



S.  R. 





Wherein  is  fet  dozvuc. 

The  Arte  of  Humouring. 

The  Arte  of  carrying  Stones. 

Will.  St.  Lift. 

la.  Foft.  Law. 

Ned  Bro.  Catch,    and 

Blacke  Robins  Kindneffe. 

With  the  conceits  of  Doflor  Pinch-backe  a 
notable  Makefliift. 

Ten  times  more  pleafant  then  any  thing  yet 
pnhliJJied  of  this  matter. 

Non  ad  iniitandinn^  fed  ad  ciiitandiivi. 


P^'intedfor  R.  lack/on^  and  I.  A^orth^ 

and  are  to  be  fold  in  Fleetflreete, 

a  Utile  aboue  the  Conduit. 


chants,  Apprentifes,  Farmers,  and 
plain e  cowitrimcn,  health. 

T  is  mofl  true,  Gentlemen,  and  wo- 
full  experience  dayly  teacheth  vs, 
that  the  more  carefull  Princes  are  in 
erecting  &  eftablifliing  good  lawes, 
for  the  rooting  out  of  vice  in  the 
common  wealth,  the  more  repug- 
nant (the  diuell  altogether  predomi- 
nant ouer  them)  do  euil  difpofed  per- 
fons,  caterpillers,  and  the  off-fcumme  of  the  world  (and  ther- 
fore  to  be  reiefled  and  excommunicated  from  the  fellowfhip 
of  all  honefb  men)  oppofe  themfelues  againft  God  and  good 
gouernement,  and  in  fteede  of  an  honeft  and  ciuill  cariage 
(which  the  Lawe  prefcribes  them)  betake  them  to  a  mofl: 
hatefull,  vicious,  and  deteftable  life :  Who,  as  they  may  well 
be  compared  to  vipers,  moft  venimous  and  fpitefull  beafls, 
that  for  their  venime  and  poifon  are  hated  and  fliunned  of  all 
men,  as  moft  preiudiciall  creatures :  fo  thefe  bafe  people,  not 
once  thinking  of  an  honeft  courfe  of  life,  trufling  vpon  their 
owne  mother  wits,  dayly  deuife  newe  fliifts  and  policies,  to 
fleece  the  plaine  dealing  man,  and  by  that  meanes  growe  in- 
to more  hate  amongft  honeft  men,  then  do  the  hated  lewes 
at  this  day :  and  the  name  of  Conicatchers  is  fo  odious,  that 
now  a  dayes  it  is  had  vp,  and  vfed  for  an  opprobrious  name 
for  euerie  one  that  fheweth  the  leaft  occafion  of  deceit.  The 
bookes  that  Avere  not  long  ago  fet  forth,  concerning  Conie- 
catching  and  croffe-biting,  and  the  difcouerie  of  each  (if  anie 
fparke  of  grace  were)  might  haue  beene  fo  manie  reftraints 

A  2  and 

The    Epiftle 

and  bridles  to  call  them  from  that  abominable  life,  but  they 
that  arc  giuen  oucr  to  their  owne  hearts  luft,  with  all  their 
might  inueigh  both  again  ft  them  and  their  Author. 

I  haue  therefore,  Gentlemen,  as  one  inforced  (aviorc patrice) 
taken  in  hand  to  publifli  this  little  Pamphlet  (which  by  a  very 
friend  came  by  a  chance  to  my  hands,  and  adding  fomewhat 
of  mine  owne  knowledge,  and  vpon  verie  credible  informa- 
tion) moft  neceffarie  in  my  mind  for  the  good  of  the  com- 
mon wealth,  both  for  all  men  to  fee,  what  groffe  villanies  are 
now  practifed  in  the  bright  Sunne-fliine,  that  thereby  they 
may  be  forewarned  to  take  heede  how  they  conuerfe  with 
fuch  cofoning  companions :  as  alfo  a  iuft  checke  and  controll 
to  fuch  wicked  liuers,  that  they  perceiuing  their  goodneffe  fet 
abroch,  may  with  remorfe  and  penitencie  forfake  their  abo- 
minable courfe  of  life,  and  betake  them  to  a  more  honeft  and 
ciuill  behauiour.  If  any  with  the  fpider  heere  feeke  to  fucke 
poifon,  let  fuch  a  one  take  heede,  that  in  praftifmg  his  villany 
he  chaunce  commence  Bachelor  in  Whittington  Colledge, 
and  fo  in  good  time  take  his  degrees  and  proceede  Doctor, 
and  thence  with  a  folemne  proceffion  take  poffeffion  of  do- 
ctor Stories  cappe ;  to  which  fome  of  the  worfliipfull  compa- 
nie  of  Conicatchers  haue  worthily  heretofore  attained. 

In  this  Treatife  (louing  countrimcn)  you  fhall  fee  what 
fliifts  this  crue  of  helhounds  haue  put  in  pra6life  fmce  the 
bookes  of  Conicatching  came  forth,  vnder  thefe  names,  viz. 
The  Art  of  Humoring;  The  Art  of  carrying Jloncs  ;  IV.  St  Lift, 
la.  laivc.  Ned  Br.  catch,  and  Blacke  Robins  kindnejjfe:  Wher- 
in  are  manifeftcd  the  nature  of  Humorifts,  fuch  as  can  infmu- 
ate  themfclues  into  euerie  mans  companie :  &  as  they  fee  him 
addicted,  fo  will  they  verfe  vpon  him,  what  policies  they  haue 
to  purloine  goods  out  of  fliops  vnder  the  pretence  of  plain- 
neffe,  what  fhifts  they  haue  to  cofen  poore  Alewiues,  by  the 
art  of  carrying  ftones,  what  inconuenience  may  come  by  fol- 
lowing flattering  ftrumpets,  I  know  not  I  Avhat  fliould  be  the 
caufe  why  fo  innumerable  harlots  and  Curtizans  abide  about 
London,  but  becaufe  that  good  lawes  are  not  looked  vnto : 
is  there  not  one  appointed  for  the  apprehending  of  fuch  hell- 


moths,  that  eat  a  man  out  of  bodic  &  foule  ?  And  yet  there  be 
more  notorious  ftrumpets  &  their  mates  about  the  Citie  and 
the  fuburbs,  then  euer  were  before  the  Marfliall  was  appoin- 
ted :  idle  mates  I  meane,  that  vnder  the  habit  of  a  Gentleman 
or  feruing  man,  think  themfehies  free  from  the  whip,  although 
they  can  giue  no  honeft  account  of  their  life.  I  could  wifli,  and 
fo  it  is  to  be  wiflied  of  euery  honeft  subie6l,  that  Amafis  lawe 
were  receiued,  who  ordained  that  euerie  man  at  the  yeares 
end  fhould  giue  an  account  to  the  Magiftrate  how  hee  liued, 
and  he  that  did  not  fo,  or  could  not  make  an  account  of  an 
honeft  life  to  be  put  to  death  as  a  fellon,  without  fauor  or  par- 
don :  What  then  fliould  become  of  a  number  of  our  vpftart 
gallants,  that  Hue  only  by  the  fweate  of  other  mens  browes, 
and  are  the  decay  of  the  for\vardeft  Gentlemen  and  befl  wits  ? 
Then  fhould  we  haue  fewer  conicatching  ftrumpets,  who  are 
the  verie  caufes  of  all  the  plagues  that  happen  to  this  flouri- 
fliing  common  wealth.  They  arc  the  deftru6lion  of  fo  manie 
Gentlemen  in  England.  By  them  many  Lordfhips  come  to 
mine.  What  dangers  growe  by  dallying  with  fuch  vnchaft  Li- 
bertines, and  what  inconuenience  followes  by  their  inordinat 
pleafures,  let  thofe  that  haue  had  wofull  experience  and  mai- 
fter  Surgeon  together  teftifie :  nay,  they  not  onely  indanger 
the  bodie  by  lothfom  difeafes,  but  ingraue  a  perpetuall  fhame 
in  the  forehead  of  the  partie,  and  finally  confume  his  foule  and 
make  him  fit  for  the  diuell. 

To  leaue  thefe  bafe  companions  (that  can  be  by  no  wholfom 
counfell,  nor  aduifed  perfwafions  bee  diffwaded  from  their 
lothfom  kind  of  life,  nor  called  to  any  honeft  courfe  of  liuing) 
in  the  dregges  of  their  difhonefty.  Would  it  pleafe  the  hono- 
rable and  worfhipfull  of  the  land  to  take  order  for  the  cutting 
off  of  thefe  cofoners,  and  confuming  cankers  of  this  common 
wealth,  they  fhould  not  only  caufe  a  bleffmg  to  be  powred  on 
this  flourifhing  flate,  but  haue  the  prayers  of  euery  good  fub- 
ie6l  for  their  profperous  healths  and  welfare.  And  thus  Gen- 
tlemen, I  conclude  with  this  farewell :  God  either  conuert  or 
confound  fuch  bafe  companions. 

Yours  to  vfc, 
S.  R. 

To  the  Reader. 

Sc  and pcnifc  not  ivitJi  a  curious  cjr, 

For  Truth  eft's  blamde,  yet  neuer  tellcth  lie. 
I  tell  not  I,  ivhat  forrainc  men  hauc  done. 

But  follow  that  which  others  hauc  begun. 
No  learned  Clearke  in  Schooles  that  vfc  to  write. 

But  Enuie  inalces  their  labours  foinc  to  fpite. 
What  thenf/iall  I,  that  zvrite  a  homely  flile, 
Thinke  but  to  hauc  a  homely  feoffing  f mile. 
But  thefe  and  thofc  that  cither  mocke  or  flcorne, 

Would  they  might  zvcarc  (f aire  fight)  A6leons  home. 
But  you  kind  friends,  that  loue  your  countries  wcaltJi, 

Vouch  of  my  labours,  good  fortune  guide  your  health. 
To  pleafure  inofl,  and  profit  all's  my  end, 

My  greatcfl  care  to  plcafe  both  foe  and  friend. 
Readc  then  kind  friends,  my  t  ran  ell  hecre  you  hauc, 
I  lookc  for  nought,  noitght  but  your  lo?tes  T  craue. 


haunting  Conicatchers. 

Here  hath  beene  of  late  daies  pub- 
hfhed  two  merrie  and  pithie  Pam- 
phlets of  the  arte  of  Conicatchnig : 
whenn  the  Author  hath  fufficiently 
expreffed  his  experlece,  as  alfo  his 
loue  to  his  Countrie.  Neuerthe- 
leffe  with  the  Authors  leaue,  I  will 
ouerlooke  fome  lawe  tearmes  ex- 
preffed in  the  firft  part  of  Conicatching:  whereunto,  as  the 
Author  faith,  is  neceffarilie  required  three  parties:  The  fet- 
ter, the  Vei'fer,  and  the  Barnacle.  Indeed  I  haue  heard  fome 
retainers  to  this  ancient  trade  difpute  of  his  proceedings 
in  this  cafe,  and  by  them  in  a  full  Synode  of  quart  pots  it 
w'as  thorowlie  examined  and  concluded,  that  there  were 
no  fuch  names  as  he  hath  fet  downe,  nor  anie  cheating 
Arte  fo  chriftened  as  Conicatching.  Marie,  in  efifecl  there 
is  the  like  vnderhand  traffique  daylie  vfed  and  experien- 
ced among  fome  fewe  fbart  vp  Gallants  difperffc  about  the 
fuburbs  of  London,  who  tearmes  him  that  drawes  the  fifli 
to  the  bait,  the  Beater,  and  not  the  Setter:  the  Tauerne 
where  they  go,  the  Bufh,  and  the  foole  fo  caught,  the  Bird.  As 
for  Conicatching,  they  cleape  it  Batfowling,  the  wine  the 
Strap,  and  the  cards  the  Limetwigs.  Now  for  the  compaf- 
fmg  of  a  woodcocke  to  worke  on,  and  the  fetching  him  into 
the  wine  bench  of  his  wracke,  is  right  beating  the  bufli. 
The  good  affe  is  he  will  be  dealt  vpon,  ftouping  to  the  lure: 
if  he  be  fo  wife  as  to  keep  aloofe,  a  Haggard.    And  he  whom 


Greenes   Ghoft 

he  makes  Verfer  the  Retriuer,  and  the  Barnacle  the 

But  all  this  breakes  no  fquarc,  fo  long  as  we  concurre 
ill  codcvi  fnbicBo :  yet  I  wifli,  that  as  he  hath  looked  into 
thefe  wicked  a6lions  opened  therein,  fo  he  had  alfo  looked 
into  other  groffe  finnes,  which  are  fecded  in  the  hearts  of 
fundric  perfons.  Extortion  had  beene  a  large  theame  to 
haue  wrought  vpon:  and  with  the  Vfurers  bagges  full  of 
gold  he  might  haue  handled  another  pretie  Treatife:  He 
might  haue  brought  forth  luftice  weying  bread,  and  the 
Baker  putting  his  eares  in  the  ballance  to  make  euen 
weight.  He  fliould  haue  perfonated  the  Thames  moft  piti- 
fully complaining,  what  monflrous  hauocke  the  Brew- 
ers make  of  her  water,  w'ithout  all  remorfe  or  compani- 
on: and  how  they  put  in  willowc  leaues  and  broome  buds 
into  their  woort  in  fleed  of  hoppcs.  So  likewife  a  Chriflian 
exhortation  to  mother  Bunch  would  not  haue  done  amiffe, 
that  flie  fliould  not  mixe  lime  with  her  Ale,  to  make  it 
mightie,  or  cozen  the  Queenes  liege  people  of  their  drink, 
by  fubbing  them  off  with  thefe  flender  w^afted  blacke  pots 
and  Cannes,  that  will  hold  little  more  then  a  Sering.  A 
profitable  Treatife  might  haue  alfo  beene  publiflied  for 
fuch  companions  to  looke  into,  as  for  good  fellowfliip  will 
not  fticke  to  lend  two  or  three  falfe  oathes  to  defeate  the 
widdow  and  fatherleffc  of  their  right,  though  in  fliort  fpace 
after  they  lofe  their  eares  for  their  labour.  A  perfwafion 
againft  pride  had  beene  verie  profitable :  and  an  exhortati- 
on againft  fwearing  had  beene  a  thing  commendable,  if 
he  had  in  a  plcafant  Treatife  flicwed  the  folly  of  yong 
youthes  and  idle  queanes;  which  entring  into  the  feruice 
of  fundrie  honeft  perfons,  continue  there  no  longer  then 
they  can  cleanly  conuay  fomc  fufficient  cariage  for  their 
prefcnt  maintenance.  Then  had  he  done  well,  and  perad- 
ucnturc  giuen  fuch  light  to  fundrie  honeft  houfliolders, 
that  they  would  be  carefull  what  perfons  they  had  receiued 
into  their  houfcs  or  put  in  truft  about  their  bufineffe. 

There  might  haue  alfo  beene  compiled  a  delectable  and 


hauntinof    Conicatchers, 


pleafant  Treatife  of  the  abufe  committed  by  fuch  as  fell 
bottle  ale,  who  to  make  it  fly  vp  to  the  top  of  the  houfe  at 
the  firft  opening  do  put  gunpowder  into  the  bottles  while 
the  ale  is  new.  Then  by  flopping  it  clofe,  make  the  people 
beleeue  it  is  the  ftrength  of  the  ale,  when  being  truly  fif- 
ted  it  is  nothing  indeed  but  the  ftrength  of  the  gunpowder 
that  worketh  the  effe6l,  to  the  great  heart-burning  of  the 
parties  that  drinke  the  fame.  I  would  haue  had  him  touch 
the  contrarietie  of  apparell,  and  fet  downe  reafons  to  dif- 
fwade  men  from  wearing  French  peakes,  becaufe  they 
are  good  for  nothing  but  to  ftab  men,  as  alfo  told  the  vfe 
of  the  terrible  cut,  and  the  Swallow  taile  flash. 

To  leaue  daliance  and  come  to  the  matter.  I  will  in- 
forme  you  what  policies  haue  beene  pra6lifed  fmce  the 
books  of  Conicatching  were  fet  forth.  Thefe  Batfowlers 
or  Conicatchers  hauing  loft  a  collop  of  their  lining,  by 
communicating  their  fecrets  with  babling  companions, 
haue  now  inuented  a  newe  tricke  to  fetch  in  the  pence. 
They  difguife  themfelues  like  Apparitors  or  Sumners, 
and  come  to  a  young  Gentleman,  Merchant,  or  old  pinch- 
cruft,  as  it  male  fall  out,  that  hath  gotten  a  maid,  a  mans 
daughter,  or  this  widdow  or  ordinarie  woman  with  child, 
or  at  leaft  haue  beene  more  neere  with  them  then  they 
fhould:  and  them  they  threaten  with  proceffe,  citations, 
the  whip,  or  the  white  fheete  at  leaft,  vntill  they  come  to 
compofitio.  The  timorous  foules  fearing  to  be  made  a  by- 
word of  fhame  to  the  whole  Citie,  bribe  them  with  all  that 
euer  they  can  rap  and  rend,  to  holde  their  peace,  and  faue 
their  honeftie.  They  will  vrge  the  ftri6lneffe  of  their  oath, 
and  the  danger  of  the  law  in  fuch  cafes  of  concealement, 
vntill  they  can  fee  them  come  off  roundly :  then  they  will 
hamme  and  hauke,  and  faie  they  are  not  euery  bodie,  and 
fo  take  their  mony,  and  returne  laughing  in  their  sleeues, 
to  thinke  how  they  cofoned  them. 

Within  fliort  time  after  they  fend  another  of  their  copef- 
mates  after  the  fame  fort,  and  he  giues  them  the  like  pluck. 
And  fo  two  or  three  one  after  the  other,  (hall  neuer  leaue 

B  afflicting 

Greenes   Ghoft 

afflifling  his  ghoft,  till  they  haue  made  him  as  bare  as  a 
birds  taile,  fo  as  he  hath  not  one  pennie  more  to  faue  him 
from  hanging,  if  neede  were.  A  monftrous  abufe  of  authe- 
ntic, and  hindrance  to  the  courts  of  luftice,  that  haue  the 
oucrfight  of  fuch  offences. 

Other  there  be  that  do  nothing  but  ride  vp  and  downe 
the  countrie,  like  yong  merchants  a  wooing,  and  they  will 
marrie  euerie  moneth  a  new  wife,  &  then  fleece  her  of  all 
fhe  hath,  that  done  run  away,  and  learne  where  another 
rich  widow  dwelleth,  and  ferue  her  after  the  fame  fort:  fo 
rounding  England,  til  they  haue  pickt  vp  their  crummes, 
and  got  enough  to  maintaine  them  all  their  life  after. 

But  exceeding  all  thefe  are  the  fine  fleights  of  our  Ita- 
lian humourifts,  who  being  men  for  all  companies,  will 
by  once  conuerfing  with  a  man  fo  draw  him  to  them,  that 
he  fhall  thinke  nothing  in  the  world  too  deare  for  them,  nor 
once  be  able  to  part  them,  vntill  they  haue  fpent  all  they 
haue  on  them. 

If  he  be  lafciuioufly  addi6led  they  haue  Aretines  Tables 
at  his  fingers  ends,  to  feede  him  on  with  new  kinde  of  fil- 
thineffe :  they  will  come  in  with  Rowfc  the  French  painter, 
and  fhew  what  an  vnlawfull  vaine  he  had  in  baudrie :  not  a 
whore  nor  a  queane  about  the  towne  but  they  knowe,  and 
can  tell  her  markcs,  and  where,  and  with  whom  shee  hofts. 

If  they  fee  you  couetoufly  bent,  they  will  difcourfe  won- 
ders of  the  Philofophers  ftone,  and  make  you  beleeue  they 
can  make  gold  of  goofe-greafe,  only  you  muft  be  at  fome 
two  or  three  hundred  pound  charge,  or  fuch  a  fmall  trifle,  to 
helpe  to  fct  vp  their  ftilles,  and  then  you  neede  not  care 
where  you  beg  your  bread :  for  they  will  make  you  do  little 
better,  if  you  follow  their  prefcriptions. 

Difcourfe  with  them  of  countries,  they  will  fet  you  on 
fire  with  trauelling:  yea  what  place  is  it  they  will  not 
fwcarc  they  haue  bccne  in,  and  I  warrant  you  tell  fuch  a 
found  talc,  as  if  it  were  all  Gofpell  they  fpakc.  Not  a  cor- 
ner in  Fraunce  but  they  can  defcribe.  Venice,  why.?  It  is 
nothing,  for  they  haue  intelligence  of  it  euerie  houre,  and 

'  at 

haunting   Conicatchers. 

at  euerie  word  will  come  in  with  Siado  Curtizano,  tell  you 
fuch  miracles  of  Madame  Padilia  and  Romana  Impia,  that 
you  Avill  be  mad  till  you  be  out  of  England :  &  if  he  fee  you 
are  caught  with  this  baite  he  will  make  as  though  he  will 
leaue  you,  and  faine  bufnieffe  about  the  Court,  or  that  fuch 
a  Noble  man  fent  for  him,  vv'hen  you  will  rather  confent 
to  robbe  all  your  friends  then  bee  feuered  from  him  one 
houre.  If  you  requeft  his  companie  to  traueile,  he  will  fay. 
In  faith  I  cannot  tell,  I  would  fooner  fpend  my  life  in 
your  companie,  then  in  anie  mans  in  England.  But  at 
this  time  I  am  not  fo  prouided  of  monie  as  I  would:  ther- 
fore  I  can  make  no  promife:  and  if  a  man  fliould  aduen- 
ture  vpon  fuch  a  iourney  without  money,  it  were  mifera- 
ble  and  bafe,  and  no  man  will  care  for  vs.  Tut  monie  fay 
you  (like  a  liberall  young  maifter)  take  no  care  for  that, 
for  I  haue  fo  much  land,  and  I  will  fell  it,  my  credite  is 
worth  fo  much,  and  I  will  vfe  it.  I  haue  the  keeping  of  a 
Cofens  cham.ber  of  mine,  which  is  an  old  counfellour,  and 
he  this  vacation  time  is  gone  downe  into  the  countrie, 
we  will  breake  vp  his  ftudie,  rifle  his  cheftes,  diue  into  the 
bottome  of  his  bagges,  but  we  will  haue  to  ferue  our 
turne,  rather  then  faile  we  will  fell  his  bookes,  pawne  his 
bedding  &  hangings,  and  m.ake  riddance  of  all  his  houfe- 
hold  ftufife  to  fet  vs  packing.  To  this  he  liftens  a  little, 
and  faith,  Thefe  are  fome  hopes  yet,  but  if  he  fhould  goe 
with  you,  and  you  haue  monie,  and  he  none,  you  will  do- 
mineere  ouer  him  at  your  pleafure,  &  then  he  were  wel  fet 
vp  to  leaue  fuch  pofTibilities  in  Englad,  &  be  made  a  flaue 
in  another  countrie.  With  that  you  offer  to  part  halfes 
with  him,  or  put  al  into  his  cuftody,  before  he  fliould  think 
you  meant  othenvife  then  wel  with  him.  He  takes  you  at 
your  offer,  and  promifeth  to  hufband  it  fo  for  you,  that  you 
fhall  fpend  with  the  beft,  and  yet  not  waft  halfe  fo  much  as 
you  do.  Which  makes  you  (meaning  fimplie)  to  put  him  in 
trufl,  and  giue  him  the  purfe.  Then  all  a  boone  voyage  into 
the  lowe  Countries  you  trudge,  and  fo  traueile  vp  into 
Italy,  but  per  varios  cafus,  &  tot  difcrimhia  ra'um,  in  a 

B  2  towne 

Greenes    Ghofb 

towne  of  garrifon  he  leaues  you,  runnes  awaie  with  your 
monie,  and  makes  you  glad  to  betake  your  felfe  to  pro- 
uant  and  become  a  Gentleman  of  a  companie.  If  he  feare 
you  will  make  after  him  he  will  change  his  name:  and  if 
there  be  anie  Gentleman  or  other  in  the  countrie,  he  will 
borrow  his  name  and  creepe  into  his  kinred,  or  it  fhall  coft 
him  a  fall,  and  make  him  paie  fw6etly  for  it  in  the  end,  if  he 
take  not  the  better  heed.  Thus  will  he  be  fure  to  haue  one 
Affe  or  other  a  foote  to  keepe  himfclfe  in  pleafmg. 

There  is  no  Arte  but  he  will  haue  a  fuperficiall  fight 
into,  and  put  downe  euerie  man  with  talke:  and  when  he 
hath  vttred  the  mofb  he  can,  make  men  beleeue  he  knowes 
ten  times  more  then  he  will  put  into  their  heads,  which  are 
fecrets  not  to  be  made  common  to  euerie  one. 

He  will  perfwade  you  he  hath  twentie  receits  of  loue 
powders,  that  he  can  frame  a  ring  with  fuch  a  deuife,  that 
if  a  v/ench  put  it  on  her  finger  fhe  flial  not  choofe  but  follow 
you  vp  and  downe  the  flreetes. 

If  you  haue  an  enemy  that  you  would  be  fainc  rid  of,  he 
will  teach  you  to  poifon  him  with  your  v^erie  lookes:  to 
ftand  on  the  top  of  Poules  with  a  burning  glaffe  in  your 
hand,  and  caft  the  fame  with  fuch  a  force  on  a  mans  face 
that  walkes  vnder,  that  it  fhall  ftrike  him  ftark  dead,  more 
violently  then  lightning. 

To  fill  a  letter  full  of  needles,  which  fliall  be  laid  after 
fuch  a  mathematical  order,  that  when  he  opens  it,  to  whom 
it  is  fent,  they  fhall  fpring  vp  and  file  into  his  bodie  forci- 
bly, as  if  they  had  b^ene  blowne  vp  with  gunpowder,  or 
fent  from  a  Caliuers  mouth  like  fmall  fliot. 

To  conclude,  he  will  haue  fuch  probable  reafons  to  pro- 
cure belccfe  to  his  lies,  fuch  a  fmooth  tongue  to  deliuer 
them,  and  fet  them  forth  with  fuch  a  grace,  that  he  fliould  be 
a  verie  Avife  man  did  not  fwallow  the  Gudgin  at  his 

In  this  fort  haue  I  knowne  fundrie  young  Gentle- 
men of  England  trained  forth  to  their  owne  deflru6lion, 
which   makes   me   the   more  willing   to  publifli   this  dis- 


hauntinof   Conlcatchers. 


courfe,  the  better  to  forewarne  other  of  fuch  Batfowling 
companions;  as  alfo  for  the  rooting  out  of  thefe  infinua- 
ting  moth-wormes  that  eate  men  out  of  their  fubflance 
vnfeene,  and  are  the  decaie  of  the  forwardefl  Gentlemen 
and  heft  wits. 

How  manie  haue  we  about  London,  yt  to  the  difgrace 
of  Gentlemen  Hue  gentlemanlike  of  themfelues  hauing 
neither  mony  nor  land,  nor  any  lawful  means  to  maintain 
them,  fome  by  play,  and  then  they  go  a  mumming  into  the 
countrie  all  the  Chriftmas  time  w^ith  falfe  dice,  or  if  there 
be  anie  place  where  Gentlemen  or  merchants  frequent  in 
the  Citie,  or  anie  towne  corporate,  thither  will  they,  either 
difguifed  like  to  yong  merchants,  or  fubfbantiall  Citizens, 
and  draw  them  all  drie  that  euer  dealt  with  them. 

There  are  fome  that  doe  nothing  but  walke  vp  and 
downe  Paules,  or  come  to  fliops  to  buy  wares,  with  bud- 
gets of  writings  vnder  their  armes:  and  thefe  will  vrge 
talke  with  anie  man  about  their  futes  in  lavv',  and  difcourfe 
vnto  them  how  thefe  and  thefe  mens  bands  they  haue  for 
money,  that  are  the  chiefeft  dealers  in  London,  Norwich, 
Briftow,  and  fuch  like  places,  and  complaine  that  they  can 
not  get  one  pennie.  Why,  if  fuch  a  one  doth  owe  it  you 
(faith  fome  man  that  knowes  him)  I  durft  buy  the  debt  of 
you,  let  me  get  it  of  him  as  I  can.  O  faith  my  budget- 
man,  I  haue  his  hand  and  feale  to  fliewe,  looke  heere  els: 
and  with  that  pluckes  out  a  counterfeit  band  (as  all  other 
his  writings  are)  and  reades  it  to  him.  Whereupon  for 
halfe  in  halfe  they  prefently  compound,  and  after  that  hee 
hath  that  ten  pounds  paid  him  for  his  band  of  twentie  be- 
fides  the  forfeiture,  or  fo  forth,  he  fayes.  Faith  thefe  Law- 
yers drinke  me  as  drie  as  a  fieue,  and  I  haue  mony  to  pay 
at  fuch  a  dale,  and  I  doubt  I  fhall  not  be  able  to  compaffe 
it:  here  are  all  the  leafes  and  euidences  of  my  land  lying 
in  fuch  a  fhire,  I  would  you  would  lend  me  fortie  pounds 
on  them  till  the  next  tearme,  or  for  fome  fixe  moneths,  and 
then  either  it  fhall  be  repayd  with  interefl,  or  I  will  forfeit 
my  whole  inheritace,  which  is  better  worth  then  a  hundred 

B  3  marks 


Greenes   Ghofl 

marks  a  yeare. 

The  wealthie  retailer,  citizen,  merchant,  Gentleman  or 
young  nouice  that  hath  ftore  of  crowncs  lying-  by  him, 
greedy  of  fuch  a  bargaine,  thinking  perhaps  by  one  claufe 
or  other  to  defeat  him  of  all  he  hath,  lends  him  the  mony 
and  takes  a  faire  ftatute  merchant  of  his  lands  before  a 
ludge,  but  when  all  comes  to  all,  he  hath  no  more  land  in 
England  then  feuen  foote  in  the  Church  yard,  neither  is  his 
inheritance  either  in  Poffe  or  Effc,  then  a  paire  of  gallowes 
in  a  greene  field,  nor  do  anie  fuch  occupiers  knowe  him, 
much  leffe  owe  him  anie  money,  whereby  the  couetous 
perfon  is  cheated  fortie  or  fiftie  pounds  thick  at  one  clap. 

Not  vnlike  to  thefe  arc  they,  that  comming  to  Ordina- 
ries about  the  Exchange  where  Merchants  do  table  for  the 
moft  part,  will  faie  they  haue  two  or  three  fhips  of  coales 
late  come  from  Newcaftle,  and  wifh  they  could  light  on  a 
good  chapman  that  would  deale  for  them  altogether.  What 
is  your  price,  faith  one.''  What's  your  price,  faith  another .>' 
He  holds  them  at  the  firft  at  a  very  high  rate,  and  fets  a 
good  face  on  it,  as  though  he  had  fuch  traffique  indeed,  but 
afterward  comes  downe  fo  low,  y^  euerie  man  ftriues  who 
fhall  giue  him  earneft  firft:  and  ere  he  be  aware,  he  hath 
fortie  fliillings  clapt  into  his  hand,  to  affure  the  bargaine 
to  fomc  one  of  them.  He  puts  it  vp  quietly,  and  bids  them 
inquire  for  him  at  fuch  a  figne  and  place,  where  he  neuer 
came,  fignifying  alfo  his  name,  when  in  troth  he  is  but  a  co- 
foning  companion,  and  no  fuch  man  to  be  found.  Thus 
goes  he  clearc  awaie  with  fortie  fliillings  in  his  purfe  for 
nothing,  and  they  vnlike  euer  to  fee  him  againe. 

There  is  a  certain  kind  of  cofonage  called  horfecourfing, 
v/hich  is  when  a  man  goes  to  the  Cariers  of  Cambridge, 
Oxford,  Burie  or  Nonvich,  or  anie  great  towne  of  trade, 
and  hires  a  horfe  to  ride  downe  with  them,  as  thefc  odde 
companions  will  doc:  and  what  doth  me  he,  but  as  foonc  as 
he  hath  him,  fteps  afide  into  fome  blind  towne  or  other, 
and  there  lies  till  he  haue  eaten  him  out  lim  by  lim  in  wine 
and  capons,  and  then  when  he  can  get  no  more  on  him,  he 



haunting   Conicatchers. 

fends  the  Carler  word  where  he  is ;  who  in  the  end  is  faine 
to  pay  fome  fiftie  fliilhngs  or  three  pounds  for  his  vi6luals 
that  hired  him  ere  he  can  haue  him.  Rochefter  hackney- 
men  do  knowe  what  belongs  to  this  trade,  for  they  haue 
beene  often  times  fleeced  by  thefe  ranke  riders,  who  com- 
ming  to  a  towne  with  a  cloke-bag  of  ftones  caried  after 
them,  as  if  they  were  men  of  fome  worth,  hire  a  horfe  to 
Canterburie,  and  ride  quite  away  with  him. 

There  be  certaine  mates  called  Faunguefts,  who  if  they 
can  find  a  fit  Anuill  to  ftrike  on,  will  learne  what  acquain- 
tance he  hath  in  the  countrie,  and  then  they  will  come  to 
him,  and  fay,  I  am  to  doe  commendations  to  you  from  a 
friend  of  yours,  and  he  gaue  me  this  bowed  fixe  pence  to 
drinke  a  quart  of  wine  with  you  for  his  fake :  and  if  he  goe 
to  the  tauerne,  they  will  not  onely  make  him  paie  for  the 
wine,  but  for  all  he  drinks  in  befides. 

So  was  one  in  Aldergate-ftreete  lately  ferued,  who 
drawne  to  the  tauerne  after  fuch  a  like  order  called  for  a 
pinte  of  wine,  the  drawer  brought  it  him,  and  a  goblet 
with  it,  and  fet  them  both  on  the  table,  and  went  his  way: 
Whie,  quoth  this  Fawnegueft,  what  a  goblet  hath  the  fel- 
low brought  vs  here,  it  wil  not  hold  halfe  a  draught .''  So  ho 
(quoth  he)  no  attendance  gluen  here.'*  He  carie  it  to  him 
my  felfe,  fince  no  body  will  come:  for  of  all  things  I  loue 
not  to  drinke  in  thefe  squirting  cups,  fo  downe  the  ftaires, 
forth  of  the  doores  he  goes  with  the  goblet  vnder  his  cloake, 
and  left  his  newe  acquaintance  and  fmall  remembrance 
to  paie  three  pound  for  a  three-penie  fliot. 

Such  Fawneguefbs  were  they,  that  meeting  a  prentife, 
who  had  beene  to  receiue  a  hundred  pound  for  his  mafl:er, 
fodainly  in  the  middefl  of  Cheapfide  in  the  dale  time,  and 
open  market  fbept  to  him,  as  if  they  had  bin  familiarly  ac- 
quainted with  him,  and  fodainly  caft  the  hinder  fkirt  of  his 
cloake  ouer  his  face,  making  as  though  they  had  iested 
v/ith  him,  and  feeming  to  thruft  their  cold  hands  in  his 
necke,  one  of  them  thratled  him  fo  fore  by  the  wind-pipe, 
that  he  could  make  no  noife,  but  fodainly  funke  to  the 



Greenes   Ghoft 

ground  muffled  in  his  cloke,  while  the  other  took  from  him 
the  bagge  with  the  money  which  he  had  vnder  his  arme, 
W'hich  done,  they  ranne  away  laughing,  as  if  that  the  d6ede 
were  done  in  icft. 

Soone  after  the  market  folks  and  people  paffmg  by  to 
&  fro  perceiuing  the  youth  lie  ftill  on  the  ground  &  not  flir 
vp,  ftepped  to  him,  and  feeing  in  what  ftate  he  w^as,  rubbed 
and  chafed  him,  and  gaue  him  Aqua  vitae,  fo  that  foone  after 
he  came  againe  to  himfelf :  then  looking  about  him,  &  feeing 
the  people  fo  gathered  together,  he  cried  vnto  them,  O, 
where's  my  money!  They  wondring  to  heare  him  talke 
of  mony,  told  him  both  how  his  companions  left  him,  and 
they  found  him,  whereby  the  people  knowing  how  he  was 
deceiued,  made  after  them,  but  they  were  neuer  heard  of 
till  this  day. 

But  thefe  are  Gentlemen  Batfowlers  in  comparifon 
of  the  common  rablement  of  Cutpurfes  and  pickpockets, 
and  no  man  that  fees  them  but  would  imagine  them  to  be 
Caualiers  of  verie  good  fort.  Marie  there  be  a  band  of 
more  needy  mates,  called  Termers,  who  trauell  all  the  yeere 
from  faire  to  faire,  and  haue  great  doing  in  Weftminfter 
hall.  Thefe  are  the  Nips  and  Foifls;  whereof  the  firft  part 
of  Conicatching  entreateth,  and  thefe  haue  their  cloyers 
and  followers,  which  are  verie  troublefomc  to  them,  for 
they  can  no  fooner  draw  a  bung  but  thefe  come  in  for  their 
tenths,  Avhich  they  generally  tearm  fnapping,  or  fnappage. 

Now  if  the  Cutpurfe  denie  fnappage,  his  cloyer  or 
follower  forthwith  boyles  him,  that  is,  bewrayes  him,  or 
feazeth  on  his  cloake,  which  the  Nip  dares  not  withfland,  fo 
Richard  Farrie  a  notable  Lift  of  fixtie  yeares  of  age  was 
fcrucd,  who  beeing  dogged  or  followed  by  a  Cloyer  called 
lohn  Gibfon,  who  hauing  feene  him  pierce  a  hogflied  in  the 
beginning  of  a  faire  challenged  him  for  fnappage:  which 
old  Farrie  denied,  becaufe  Gibfons  wife  (as  hee  then  faid) 
was  a  pickpocket,  and  yet  Avould  part  with  nothing.  Then 
did  Gibfon  fweare  that  he  fhuld  not  buy  one  peniworth  of 
ware  that  day  (which  is  the  right  cutpurfe  phrafe  of  get- 



haunting    Conicatchers. 

ting  a  purchafe)  and  thereupon  he  fhadowed  him  vp  and 
downe,  and  mard  his  market  quite,  as  hee  had  before 

In  reuenge  whereof  the  faid  RicJiard  Farric  at  Way- 
hill  faire  lafl,  hearing  where  Gibfon  had  purloined  a 
purfe  with  thirteene  nobles  in  it,  fent  a  luftie  fellow  of  his 
profeffion,  a  yoong  dealer  in  the  arte  of  cloying  or  follow- 
ing named  lames  Roades,  that  was  fmce  hanged  at  Dor- 
chefter,  who  being  apparelled  like  a  feruingman,  came  to 
demaund  his  miftreffe  purfe  of  Gibfon,  which  he  faid  he 
faw  him  vnlawfully  take  awaie,  as  if  indeed  he  had  beene 
the  Gentlev\'omans  man  that  had  the  gleeke.  Which  Gib- 
fon at  the  firft  vtterly  denied,  but  aftenvard  being  further 
threatned  with  danger  of  his  life,  yeelded  the  purchafe  vn- 
to  Roades,  which  was  immediatelie  fliared  betweene  him 
and  old  Farrie. 

This  thing  foone  after  came  to  Gibfons  eare,  who  was 
throughly  laughed  to  fcorne  for  his  labour. 

Manie  there  be  of  thefe  wicked  perfons,  and  alfo  lewd 
Officers,  who  like  fliadowes  or  cloyers,  do  nothing  all  day 
long  but  follow  the  Lifts  vp  and  downe,  pinching  them 
for  fnappage :  and  not  one  of  them  that  hath  the  right  dex- 
teritie  in  his  fingers,  but  they  know,  &  will  conceale  and 
patronize  if  neede  require.  Marie,  if  there  be  a  nouice,  that 
hath  not  made  himfelfe  knowne  to  their  congregation,  hee 
fhall  foone  be  fmelt  out,  and  haue  no  remiffion,  vnleffe  hee 
purchafe  it  by  priuy  pilferie. 

Thefe  Cutpurfes  of  Stur bridge  fell  their  luggage 
commonly  at  a  towne  called  Botfliam,  where  they  keepe 
their  hall  at  an  odde  houfe,  bowzing  and  quaffing,  and  haue 
their  trulles  attendant  vpon  them  fo  brifke  as  may  be. 

How  a  Cheefemonger  had  his  bag  cut  out  of  his 
Aprone  hanging  before  him. 

T  this  faire  it  was,  though  long  fince,  that  the  cheefe- 
monger had  his  pocket  cut  out  of  his  aprone,  which 
C  all 



Greenes    Ghofl 

all  the  whole  Colledge  of  Cutpurfes  had  aiTa}cd,  v/hich 
none  but  one  could  bnng  to  paffe,  and  he  indeed  was  a 
do6lor  in  his  arte :  for  going  to  the  Checfemongers  boothe 
to  buy  a  cheefe,  he  gaue  him  monie  for  one  of  the  greatefl, 
and  defired  him  to  cut  it  in  peeces,  and  put  it  behind  him  in 
the  cape  of  his  cloake.  He  did  fo,  and  the  whilcft  he  was 
thrufting  it  in,  hee  cut  his  pocket  Avith  twelue  pounds 
out  of  his  apron  before  him :  for  which  deede  he  liueth  re- 
nowmcd  in  the  Cutpurfe  chronicles,  and  for  his  fake  they 
yearely  make  a  fcaft,  and  drinke  to  the  foulc  of  his  decea- 
fed  carkaffe. 

There  be  diuers  forts  of  Nips  and  Foyfls  both  of  the 
citie  and  countrie :  thefe  cannot  one  abide  the  other,  but  are 
at  deadly  hatred,  and  will  boyle  and  difcouer  one  another, 
by  reafon  one  is  hindrance  to  the  other.  And  thefe  the  for- 
mer bookes  haue  omitted.  There  are  alfo  fundrie  other 
Lawes,  not  heretofore  fpoken  of,  namely  lames  Foflers 
Law,  or  lames  Fofters  Lift:  which  grewe  thus. 

How  a  cofoning  Lift  ftole  a  cloake  out  of  a 
Scriucners  fhop. 

THis  fellow  came  into  a  Scriueners  fiiop  to  haue  a 
letter  written  to  his  wiues  mother,  fignifj'ing  that 
his  wife  was  run  a\\-aie  with  another  knauc,  and  had  ca- 
ried  awaie  all  that  he  had,  and  that  he  had  rather  be  han- 
ged then  be  troubled  anie  longer  with  fuch  a  whore.  But  it 
mufh  needs  be  written  in  hafte,  for  his  o\\'ne  father  doth 
carie  it,  and  he  goes  awaie  ftraight.  All  the  while  he  is  tel- 
ling his  tale,  he  caft  a  leering  eye  about  the  fliop,  to  fee  if 
there  were  eucr  a  cloake  v^pon  a  by-fettle,  or  anie  other  boo- 
tie  that  he  might  tranfport  vnfeene  vnder  his  owne  cloak. 
By  chance  he  efpied  one,  fo  he  leaned  againft  the  wall 
where  it  lay,  and  with  his  hands  behind  him,  he  gathered  it 
vp  cleanly  by  little  and  little:  then  fodainly  ftarting  vp, 
faid,  Yonder  is  my  father  that  Avould  carie  it,  and  I  Avill 
run  after  him  to  call  him  againe.     So  out  of  the  doores  ran 



haunting    Conicatchers. 

he  with  all  fpeed,  hauing  the  cloake  vnder  his  arme,  cry- 
ing, Ho  father,  father,  leauing  the  Scriuener  yet  writing 
his  letter,  who  mift  not  his  cloake  til!  a  great  while  after, 
that  he  faw  him  not  returne  againe. 

There  is  a  cunninger  kind  of  Lift,  when  a  Batfowler 
walking  in  an  euening  in  the  ftrectes,  will  faine  he  hath 
let  fall  a  ring  or  a  lewell,  and  come  to  a  fhop  '\\ell  furni- 
fhed  with  wares,  and  defire  the  prentife  of  the  houfe  to 
lend  his  candle  to  looke  it:  he  fufpe6leth  no  guile,  lends  it 
him:  and  the  Batfowler  goes  poaring  vp  and  dov.-ne  by 
the  doores,  as  if  he  had  loft  fomething  in  deed,  by  and  by  he 
lets  the  candle  fal  to  and  it  goes  out.  Now  I  pray  you  good 
yong  man,  faith  he,  do  fo  much  as  light  me  this  candle  a- 
gaine :  fo  goes  the  fellow  in  to  light  the  candle,  while  hee 
fteales  what  he  will  out  of  the  fhop,  and  gets  him  going 
while  the  light  commeth. 

There  is  a  Lift  called  Will.  St.  Lift,  whofe  maner  is  to 
go  vp  and  downe  to  Faires  in  a  blew  coate,  fometimes  in 
his  doublet  and  hofe,  and  fometimes  in  a  cloake,  which 
commonly  he  puts  off  v.'hen  he  comes  thither:  this  fellovv"" 
\vaiteth  diligently  v\hen  any  rich  yeoman,  Gentleman, 
or  gentlew^oman  goes  into  an  Inne  to  laie  vp  his  cloak, 
capcafe,  fauegard,  Portmantua  or  any  other  luggage,  fo 
following  them,  marks  to  whom  they  are  deliuered:  then 
comes  he  within  halfe  an  houre  after  puffing  and  blow- 
ing for  the  cloake,  capcafe,  portmantua,  fword,  or  fucli  like, 
and  in  his  maifters  name  demandeth  it,  giuing  the  v.-ife, 
maid,  tapfter,  hoftler,  or  fome  of  the  houfe  two  pence  or  a 
groate  for  laying  it  vp.  Which  hauing  receiued,  he  is  foone 
gone,  and  neuer  returneth.  This  fellow  will  fometime 
ftand  bareheaded,  and  offer  to  hold  a  Gentlemans  fiirop, 
and  verie  diligently  attend  vpon  him  Vvhen  he  alighteth 
at  anie  great  Inne,  and  feemeth  fo  feruiceable,  as  if  he 
were  an  hoftler  or  chamberlaine  belonging  to  the  houfe: 
yea  and  fometimes  follow  him  out  of  doores  as  his  man, 
and  attend  vpon  him  to  the  Faire  very  orderly:  within 
halfe  an  houre  after,  when  he  fees  his  new  maifter  is  fo 

C  2  bu- 


Greenes    Ghoil; 

bufic  in  the  Faire,  that  he  cannot  haftily  retuinc  to  his 
lodging  before  him,  he  -will  come  backe  to  the  Inne  run- 
ning, and  tell  them  his  Maifter  hath  fent  him  to  them  for 
his  clokebag  or  Portmantua  in  all  hafbe:  for  he  is  vpon 
paiment  of  money,  and  muft  needs  haue  it.  They  thinking 
him  verilie  to  be  the  Gentlemans  man,  becaufe  at  his 
comming  he  was  fo  neceffarie  about  him,  they  deliuer 
vnto  him  -vvhatfoeuer  the  Gentleman  left  with  them,  who 
notwithftanding  when  the  true  ovmer  commeth,  they  are 
faine  to  anfwer  it  out  of  their  ov/ne  purfes. 

A  flie  tricke  of  Cofonage  lately  done  in 

BEfidcs  this,  there  is  a  kind  of  Lift  called  Chopchain,  as 
when  a  Gentleman  like  a  batfowler  hath  hired  a  chain 
for  a  day  or  two  vpon  his  credit,  or  hath  fome  of  his  friends 
bound  for  the  reftoring  of  it  againc,  goes  to  S.  Martines, 
and  buyes  for  a  little  money  another  copper  chainc,  as 
like  it  as  maie  be:  then  comes  he  to  the  Goldfmith,  and 
vpon  the  right  chaine  offers  to  borrow  twentie  pounds: 
the  Goldfmith  toucheth  it  to  fee  if  it  be  counterfeit  or  no: 
tlien  finding  it  good,  he  tendereth  him  his  money :  which  the 
whileft  he  is  doing,  and  that  both  money  and  chaine  lies 
yet  vpon  the  ftall,  what  doth  me  he,  but  fumbles  and  plaies 
with  the  linkes  carelefly,  as  if  he  minded  another  matter, 
fo  by  a  fine  tricke  of  Legerdemaine  gathers  it  vp  into  his 
hand  &  chops  the  copper  chaine  in  place,  leaning  him  that 
pawne  for  his  twentie  pounds. 

How  a  man  \vas  cofoned  in  the  euening  by 
biijang  a  guilt  fpoone. 

"\  T\  THilcfb    I  was   writing   this,    I    was   giuen   to   vn- 

V     V  derftand   of  another  like   exploit  nothing  inferi- 

our  to  any  of  the  former,     A  fellowe  like  a  clowne  that 

knew  all  points  in  his  tables,  and  had  becne  maifter  of 


haunting    Conicatchers. 

his  trade  manie  >-eares  together,  Avalking  through  Sil- 
uer  flreete  in  London  fuddenly  in  the  dark  fpurned  a  faire 
gilt  f^Doonc  (as  it  feemcd)  being  wrapt  vp  in  a  paper,  v>hich 
before  he  purpofely  let  fall :  the  people  thinking  fome  other 
had  lofh  it,  and  that  it  had  beene  his  good  luck  aboue  the  refi; 
to  find  it,  gan  to  flocke  about  him  for  to  looke  on  it,  and  ad- 
mired his  fortune  in  meeting  with  it.  He  counterfeiting 
the  fimple  foole  as  well  as  he  could:  Now  a  Gods  will 
what  fhall  I  do  with  fuch  a  Gugaw?  would  fome  other  bo- 
die  had  found  it  for  me,  for  I  know  not  what  it  is  good  for. 
Why,  faid  one  of  the  fcanders  by,  wilt  thou  take  money 
for  it?  I,  quoth  he,  I  Avould  I  had  a  crowne  for  it.  And  I 
will  come  fomwhat  neere  you,  faith  the  other,  for  thou  fnalt 
haue  all  the  money  in  my  purfe,  which  is  foure  fliillings,  fo 
forth  he  drewe  his  purfe,  and  gaue  him  the  money.  And 
verie  well  content  with  the  bargain,  he  put  it  vp,  and  faid, 
I  marie,  this  money  Avill  doe  me  miorc  good  then  twentie 
fpcones,  and  let  them  keepe  fuch  toies  that  lift,  for  I  had 
rather  haue  one  groat  in  my  purfe  then  a  cart  loade  of 
fuch  trumperie.  So  away  he  Vvcnt  laughing  in  his  fleeue, 
to  thinke  how  he  had  cofoned  him  that  thought  to  ouer- 
reach  him :  &  he  that  was  fo  cofoned,  as  it  were  triumphing 
at  his  bargaine,  could  neuer  looke  enough  on  the  fpoone, 
but  went  prefently  and  caried  it  to  the  Goldfmith,  to  know 
what  it  was  worth.  Birlady  fir  v.hen  he  came  thither,  the 
fpoone  was  found  to  be  but  braffe  faire  gilded  ouer,  and 
worth  but  feucn  pence  at  the  raoH,  if  he  fliould  fell  it,  which 
was  a  heauie  cooling  card  to  his  heart,  and  made  him 
fweare,  that  for  that  fpoones  fake  he  Avould  neuer  be  in  his 
plate  againe  while  he  lined. 

Thus  euerie  dale  they  haue  new  inuentions  for  their 
villanies,  and  as  often  as  fafhions  alter,  fo  often  do  they 
alter  their  flratagems,  ftudying  as  much  how  to  compaffe 
a  poore  mans  purfe,  as  the  Prince  of  Parma  did  to  win  a 
towne.  Neither  is  this  fpoonefelling  the  gainfullefl  of 
their  artes,  although  in  one  day  they  made  away  a  dozen 
fo.     I  but  it. is  a  tricke  by  the  waie  for  a  fupper  or  a  breake- 

C  ^  fafi: 

Greenes    Ghofl 

faft,  which  no  man  at  the  firft  can  defcrie.  Ouerpafling 
this  catalogue  of  Lifts  and  Cutpurfes,  Gentlemen,  I 
will  acquaint  you  with  a  ftrange  newc  deuifed  arte  of 
ftone-carying,  wherein  is  contained  the  right  vfe  of  the 
chalke  and  the  poaft,  as  alfo  a  neceffarie  caueate  for  vi- 
6luallers  and  nickpots,  how  to  beware  of  fuch  infinua- 
ting  companions. 

The  Arte  of  carying  flones. 

FIrft  and  foremoft  you  muft  note,  that  Icauing  an  Ale- 
w^ife  in  the  lurch,  is  termed  making  her  carie  ftones, 
which  flones  be  thofe  great  Oes  in  chalke  that  fland  be- 
hind the  doore :  the  weight  of  euerie  one  of  which  is  fo  great 
that  as  manie  fliillings  as  there  be,  fo  many  times  fhee 
cries  O,  as  groning  vnder  the  waight  thereof.  Now  fir,  of 
thefe  Oes  twentie  fhillings  make  a  iuft  loade,  and  tenne 
pound  a  bargeful.  But  here  lies  the  cunning,  how  to  com- 
paffe  an  honeft  Affe  that  will  vndertake  fuch  a  burthen: 
firft  this  is  a  generall  precept  amongft  them,  that  he  muft 
be  fome  ocide  drunken  companion  that  they  deale  vpon, 
and  his  wife  a  good  wench,  that  fo  flic  may  bee  fallen  in 
with,  and  wipe  off  her  guefls  fcorcs,  if  fo  he  haue  no  monie 
to  difcharge  it:  a  thing  that  manie  women  of  that  kind 
will  willingly  do  to  haue  fport  and  faue  their  honeftie.  Yet 
if  this  cannot  conueniently  be  brought  to  paffe,  or  that  in 
refpe6l  of  her  age  flie  is  not  worth  the  taking  vp,  then  will 
they  be  fure  their  goodman  hoaft  niuft  be  a  certaine  kind 
of  bawd,  or  a  receiuer  of  cutpurfes,  pickpockets,  or  fuch 
like,  whereby  it  fo  fals  out,  that  if  he  and  they  fquare  about 
crownes,  they  may  ftop  his  mouth  Avith  threatning  to  be- 
traie  him  to  the  Beadle  of  Bridewell,  or  telling  Hind  of 
Newgate  what  hofpitalitie  he  keepes.  Nay  further,  they 
will  obferue  if  he  at  anic  time  raile  againft  anie  feuere 
luftice  that  hath  the  punifhment  of  fuch  notorious  per- 
fons,  and  if  he  do  (as  in  fome  drunken  humour  or  other  he 
will  ouerflioote  himfelfc  in  that  kind)  then  will  they  con- 


hauntinof    Conicatchers, 


ceale  it,  neucr  difccoer  it,  but  domineere  oucr  them,  throwe 
the  pots  againfl  the  wall,  for  he  and  his  houfe  is  forfeit  vn- 
to  them.  Againe,  it  maie  fo  happen  that  hofpcs  luais  maie 
be  an  old  feruingman,  who  hath  belonged  in  his  dales  to 
feme  famous  recufant  that  hath  long  fmce  broke  vp  houfe, 
and  now  being  turned  out  of  feruice,  he  hath  no  trade  to 
Hue  on,  but  muft  marie  a  whore,  and  keepe  vi61:ualling  ei- 
ther in  Weftminfter,  or  in  the  fuburbs  of  London.  Then 
cocke  a  hoope,  they  are  better  then  eucr  they  were.  For  if  he 
be  of  the  right  ftampe  he  will  be  exclaiming  againft  the 
flate,  or  thofe  that  keepe  his  maifter,  or  he  will  enter  into 
commendations  of  the  old  Religion:  and  this  is  the  onely 
thing  they  defire,  they  neuer  wifh  a  finer  fellow  to  feed  on. 
A  Gods  name  let  him  fet  forth  his  beefe  and  brewes,  and 
trudge  euerie  day  to  the  market  to  buy  Capons  &  rabbets  : 
for  if  they  run  neuer  fo  much  in  his  debt,  if  they  tell  him  of 
a  purfeuant,  he  will  neuer  threaten  the  with  a  fergeant.  A 
number  more  of  thefe  obferuations  do  appertaine  to  fhone 
carying,  as  namely  at  their  firft  comming  to  their  lodg- 
■  ing  they  bee  as  free  as  an  Empcrour,  and  dra\v  all  the  ac- 
quaintance that  they  can  procure  to  fpend  their  money 
there  before  another  place,  fo  that  the  hoft  and  hofteffe  may 
conceiue  great  matter  of  hope  of  hauing  their  houfe  cu- 
ftomed  by  their  lying  in  it,  and  eate  no  meat  but  haue  ei- 
ther the  good  mian  or  the  goodwife  Hill  with  him  at  dinner 
or  fupper,  v/hich  will  plucke  the  flones  on  his  flioulders  the 
fafter,  if  fo  he  fuffer  his  guefts  to  run  on  the  fcore.  And  this 
in  anie  cafe  they  fet  down  for  a  generall  rule,  that  they 
lie  not  aboue  two  moneths  in  one  place,  for  longer  the  ale- 
fcore  is  not  able  to  hold  out,  and  the  poore  man  ouerpreffed 
fo  exceffmely,  in  a  malecontent  humour  v/ill  rather  grow 
clefperate,  and  not  care  for  anie  danger  they  can  bring  him 
to,  then  fuffer  more  then  flefh  and  bloud  can  endure,  or  not 
rather  haue  his  will  on  them  for  vfmg  him  fo  badlv. 

How  fay  you  my  maifters,  you  thinke  there  is  no  de- 
ceit in  a  pot  of  ale,  and  that  there  are  no  cofoners  but  Co- 
nicatchers, but  that's  not  fo,  for  London  is  a  lickpenie,  and 


Greenes    Ghofh 

€uerie  man  hath  not  a  mint  in  his  pocket  that  Hues  in  it, 
feme  muft  praftife  v/itcraft,  that  hauc  not  the  gift  in  kee- 
ping a  lanes  end  with  a  fword  and  a  buckler,  or  at  the  leafl 
are  fo  crazed  with  the  Italian  bone-ache,  that  they  are  a- 
fraid  to  bee  crufht  in  peeces,  if  they  fliould  earne  their  li- 
uing  in  a  crowde.  But  to  be  briefe,  I  will  tell  you  a  merie 
ftorie  how  this  name  of  Stone-carying  firfi:  came  vp,  and 
thus  it  followeth. 

How  a  Carier  of  Norwich  w-as  made 
to  carie  ftones, 

A  Gentlewoman  that  made  a  fliew  as  if  flie  had  beene 
of  good  credit,  came  to  the  carier  of  Nonvich,  and  told 
him  fliee  was  to  remoue  houfhold,  and  went  to  dwell  in  the 
countrie,  wherfore  fhe  craued  his  friendfliip  in  fafe  tranf- 
porting  of  her  things  to  Nor\vich :  &  fo  it  is  (quoth  flie)  that 
mofb  of  my  fubflance  confifls  in  linnen,  money,  lewels, 
and  plate,  which  I  put  altogether  in  a  great  cheft,  which 
fhe  brought  thither:  As  for  other  trafli  He  neuer  trouble 
my  felfe  with  rem.ouing.  I  pray  j^ou  haue  a  great  care  to  it 
that  it  bee  fafely  laid  in  the  middeft  of  your  cart,  where 
th^eues  male  not  eafily  come  at  it,  and  that  it  be  kept  from 
raine  or  wet  in  anie  cafe,  promifmg  to  content  him  for  the 
cariage  with  more  then  ordinarie  due.  After  it  was 
feene  to  come  to  three  hundred  weight,  he  laid  it  vp  imme- 
diately in  his  carte,  nor  v.-ould  flie  depart  till  flie  faw  it  fafe 
packed.  About  an  houre  after  flie  came  to  the  carier  again, 
telling  him  that  flie  was  afraid  flie  fliould  be  conftrained 
to  haue  recourfe  to  her  cheft,  by  reafon  flie  had  a  few  tri- 
fles to  buy  ere  flie  departed,  and  that  flie  wanted  fome  fiuc 
or  fixe  pound.  The  Carier  loath  to  vnload  for  fo  fmall  a 
matter,  bid  her  take  no  care  for  money,  for  what  flie  nee- 
ded flie  fliould  haue  of  him,  till  fhe  came  downe  into  the 
countrey.  So  fixe  pounds  he  lent  her:  and  downe  with  him 
flie  goes  with  her  man  as  braue  as  might  be.  But  coni- 
niing  to  Windham,   fhee  gaue  him   the  flip,  and  he  fawe 



hauntino-    Conicatchers. 


her  no  more :  Home  went  the  Carler,  and  laid  vp  the  cheft 
verie  fafe  in  his  ftorehoufe,  daily  looking  when  the  Gentle- 
woman would  come  for  it.  After  a  moneth  was  paft,  and 
hearing  no  words  of  her,  fearing  he  was  cofoned,  he  fent 
for  the  Conliable  and  fundrie  other  of  his  neighbours,  and 
before  them  brake  vp  the  cheft,  finding  nothing  in  it  but 
fmall  foft  freeflone  lapped  in  ftraw,  mixt  with  Flints  and 
fuch  like  ftufife,  beeing  very  fpeciall  things  to  giue  the  Ca- 
rler his  loading.  Alas,  kind  man,  this  was  but  heauie  ti- 
dings for  him :  for  befides  the  money  that  he  had  laid  out 
of  his  purfe,  he  loft  the  cariage  of  other  luggage,  which 
would  haue  returned  him  greater  profit.  Yet  could  not 
this  nor  ten  times  as  much  vndoe  him,  but  fetting  light  of 
it,  in  a  merie  humour  he  reported  to  fome  of  his  friends 
the  circumftance  of  all  his  cariage  of  ftones.  And  euer 
fmce  the  left  hath  beene  taken  vp  by  odde  companions  and 

I  would  bee  loth  by  this  my  publiflit  Difcouerie  to 
corrupt  the  fimple,  or  teach  them  knauerie  by  my  book,  that 
els  would  haue  beene  honefl,  if  they  had  neuer  feene  them : 
for  that  were  all  one  as  if  a  Chirurgion  that  teacheth  men 
what  the  plague  is,  that  they  might  efchew  it,  fhould  bring 
his  patient  that  hath  a  plague  fore,  into  the  market  place, 
and  there  lance  it,  whereby  all  men  that  looke  on,  in  fteed  of 
learning  to  auoid  it,  fhould  be  mofl  dangeroufly  infected 
with  it.  But  my  meaning  in  this  is,  but  to  chafe  the  game 
which  others  haue  rowfed;  and  execute  them  outright 
which  Conicatching  only  hath  branded :  and  although  I  do 
not  fpend  manie  leaues  in  inueighing  againft  the  vices 
v/hich  I  reckon  vp,  or  time  and  paper  in  vrging  their  odi- 
oufneffe  fo  far  as  I  might :  yet  you  muft  not  thinke,  but  I 
hate  them  as  deadly  as  any,  and  to  make  manifeft  my  ha- 
tred to  them,  haue  vndertooke  this  Treatife.  But  imagine 
the  Reader  to  be  of  this  wifdome  and  difcretion,  that  hea- 
ring fome  laid  open,  he  can  difcerne  it  to  be  finne,  and  can 
fo  deteft  it,  though  he  be  not  cloid  with  a  common  place  of 
exhortation.    And  footh  to  fay,  I  thinke  euery  man  to  bee  of 

D  my 

Greenes    Ghoit 

my  mind,  thai  when  they  fee  a  fcllov/  leapc  from  the  fubie6l 
he  is  handling,  to  diffwadc  them  by  ftalc  arguments  from 
the  thing  they  alrcadie  dctcft,  they  fliould  flcip  it  ouer,  and 
neuer  readc  it,  gainccopc  him  at  the  next  turning  point 
to  his  text. 

To  difmiffe  this  parenthefis  and  returne  to  circa  quod. 
I  care  not  fnice  this  occafion  of  Stone-carying  hath 
brought  mc  from  talking  of  the  cofonage  of  men  to  the 
treacherous  fubtiltie  of  women,  if  I  rehearfc  you  a  talc 
or  two  more  of  Crofbitings  latcl}-  done  by  fuch  detefta- 
ble  ftrumpets. 

A  Tale  of  a  whore  that  crosbit  a  Gentleman  of  the 

Innes  of  Court. 

ACertainc  queanc  belonging  to  a  clofc  Nunnerie  a- 
bout  Clarkcnwell,  lighting  in  the  compan}^  of  a  yong 
Punic  of  the  Innes  of  Court,  trained  him  home  with  her 
to  her  hofpitall :  and  there  couenanting  for  fo  much  to  giuc 
him  his  houferoome  all  night.  To  bed  they  \\-ent  together 
like  man  and  wife.  At  midnight  a  crue  of  her  copcf- 
mates  kept  a  knocking  and  bufling  at  the  doorc.  She  ftar- 
ting  fodainly  out  of  her  fleepe,  arofc  and  went  to  the  win- 
dow to  looke  out:  v.hercwith  flic  cr}-ing  out  to  him,  faid, 
that  a  lufticc  was  at  the  doorc  with  a  companic  of  billes, 
and  came  to  fearch  for  a  feminaric  Prieft,  and  that  there 
was  no  remedic  but  flic  muft  open  vnto  them:  wherefore 
cither  he  muft  rife  and  lockc  himfelfe  in  a  fliudic  that  was 
hard  by,  or  they  fliould  be  both  caried  to  Bridewell.  The 
poore  filly  youth  in  a  trance,  as  one  new  ftart  out  of  fleep, 
and  that  knew  not  where  he  was,  fuffcred  her  to  Icade 
him  whither  flic  would,  who  haftily  thruft  him  into  the 
ftudie,  and  there  locked  him,  and  went  to  let  them  in.  Then 
entred  Sim  Swaflibucklcr,  Captainc  Gogfwounds,  and 
Lawrence  Longfword-man,  v.ith  their  appurtenances, 
made  inquirie  as  if  they  had  beene  Officers  indeed,  for  a 
young  Seminaric  Prieft  that  fliould   be  lodged  there  that 



haunting    Conicatchers. 

She  fimpcrcd  it,  and  made  curtefie,  &  fpake  reucrcntly  vn- 
to  them,  as  if  flie  had  neuer  feene  them  before,  and  that 
they  had  becnc  fuch  as  they  feemed,  and  told  them  fhe  knew 
of  none  fuch,  and  that  none  lay  there  but  her  felfe.  With 
that  through  fignes  that  fhee  made,  they  fpied  where  his 
clothes  were  fallen  downe  betweene  the  cheft  and  the  wall : 
Then  they  began  to  raile  vpon  her,  and  call  her  a  thoufande 
whoores,  faying  they  would  make  her  an  example,  I  mary 
v/ould  they,  and  vfe  her  like  an  Infidell  for  her  lying,  nor 
would  they  ftand  fearching  any  longer,  but  fliee  fliould  be 
conftrained  to  bring  him  forth:  And  that  they  might  bee 
furc  he  fhould  not  ftart,  they  would  carie  away  his  clothes 
with  them.  As  for  the  clofet,  becaufc  it  was  a  Gentlemans 
out  of  the  towne,  they  would  not  raflily  breake  it  open,  but 
they  would  fet  watch  and  ward  about  the  houfe  till  the 
morning,  by  which  time  they  would  refolue  further  what 
to  do.  So  out  of  doores  go  they  with  his  clothes,  doublet, 
hofe,  hat,  rapier,  dagger,  fliooes,  ftockings,  and  twentie 
marks  that  he  had  in  his  fleeue,  which  he  was  to  pay  vpon 
a  band  the  next  day  for  his  father,  to  a  merchant  in  Can- 
ning ftreete,  and  left  Nicholas  Nouicc  ftaruing  and  qua- 
king in  that  doghole.  The  morning  grew  on,  and  yet  the 
yong  Ninihammer,  though  he  was  almofb  frozen  to  death, 
ftood  ftill  and  durft  not  ftirre,  till  at  length  the  good  wife  of 
the  houfe  came  and  let  him  out,  and  bad  him  fhift  for  him- 
felfe,  for  the  houfe  was  fo  belaid,  that  it  was  not  poffible  for 
him  to  efcape,  &  that  fhe  was  vtterly  vndone  through  his 
comming  thither.  After  manie  words  it  grew  to  this  vp- 
fhot;  that  he  muft  giue  her  a  ring  worth  thirtie  fliillings, 
which  he  then  had  on  his  finger,  onely  to  helpe  him  out  at 
a  backe  doorc,  and  in  fo  doing  flie  would  lend  him  a  blan- 
ket to  caft  about  him.  Which  beeing  perfourmed,  like  an 
Irish  begger  he  departed  on  the  backefide  of  the  fieldes  to 
his  chamber,  vowing  neuer  to  pay  fo  deere  for  one  nights 
lodging  during  his  life. 

D  z  How 


Greenes    Ghofl 

How  a  Curbar  was  drefl  with  an  vnfauourie  perfume, 

and  how  a  notable  whore  was  crosbit- 

ten  in  her  ownc  pracflife. 

A  Notable  whoore  of  late  daics  compa6t  Avith  a  hooker, 
whom  conicatching  Englifli  cals  Curbar,  bargained 
■with  a  countric  Gentleman  or  Tcarmer  aforefaid,  to  tell 
her  talcs  in  her  earc  all  night :  &  according  to  appointment 
he  did  fo.  The  Gentleman  hauing  fupt,  and  readie  to  go  to 
bed,  flic  willed  him  to  lay  his  clothes  in  the  windowe,  for 
(quoth  flie)  wc  are  fo  troubled  with  rats  in  this  place  (which 
was  in  Peticote  lane)  that  wee  cannot  lay  any  thing  out 
of  our  hands,  but  they  will  in  one  night  be  gnav/ne  to  pee- 
ces,  and  made  worth  nothing:  but  her  intent  was  this, 
that  the  Curbar  with  his  crome  might  the  more  conucni- 
ently  reach  them;  not  that  flie  cared  fo  much  for  his  appa- 
rell,  as  for  his  purfc,  vrhich  flic  knew  was  well  ftored  with 
crownes,  and  lay  in  the  fiecue  of  his  doublet:  whereupon 
he  was  ruled  by  her,  and  fo  entred  the  lifts.  Within  two 
houres  after,  he  beeing  fore  troubled  with  a  laflvc,  rofe  vp 
and  made  a  double  vfe  of  his  chamberpot,  which  going  to 
throw  it  out  at  the  windoAV,  he  remoued  the  clothes  from 
before  it,  and  fet  it  in  the  place  till  he  had  opened  the  cafe- 
ment.  At  that  inftant  the  fpring  of  the  window  leapt  open 
of  the  one  accord.  Whereat  being  amazed,  he  ftept  backe 
with  a  trice,  leaning  the  chamberpot  ftanding  ftill:  then 
fearing  the  diuell  had  beene  at  hand,  by  and  by  he  fpied  a 
faire  iron  inftrument  like  a  nut  came  marching  in  at  the 
window  verie  folemnly,  which  in  fteede  of  the  doublet  and 
the  hofe  that  he  ferretted  for,  arrefted  that  homely  feruice 
in  the  member  veffell,  and  pluckt  goodman  Jordan  vrith  all 
his  contents  down  pat  vpon  the  Curbars  head  and  flioul- 
ders.  Neuer  was  gentle  Angler  fo  dreft:  for  his  face,  his 
necke  and  apparell  were  all  befmcared  with  the  foft  Sir- 
reuerence,  fo  that  I  warrant  you  hec  ftunke  worfc  then  a 
lakes-farmer.      The    Gentleman    hearing    one    crie    out, 



hauntinor    Conicatchers. 


and  feeing  his  meffe  altogether  thus  ftrongly  taken  awayv 
began  to  gather  courage  to  him,  and  looked  out  to  fee  what 
it  was :  where,  to  his  no  fmall  contentment  hee  might  be- 
hold the  Curbar  lying  along  almoft  brained,  almofl:  drow- 
ned, and  well  neere  poifoned  with  the  tragicall  euent  of 
thepifpot:  whereat  he  laughed  merily,  and  fufpccling  his 
Leman  to  haue  a  Ihare  in  that  confpiracy,  and  that  for  ten 
pounds  it  was  her  motion  to  haue  him  laie  his  clothes  in 
the  windowe,  to  the  end  he  might  haue  loft  them  and  his 
money,  flie  being  a  fleepe  in  the  bed  all  this  while,  he  qui- 
etly remoued  his  owne  apparell,  took  her  gowne  and  peti- 
coat  and  laid  them  in  the  fteed.  Forthwith  the  Curbar  reui- 
ued,  in  came  the  hooke  againe  verie  manerlie,  and  clapt 
hold  on  thofe  parcels,  which  together  went  downe  with  a 
witneffe.  All  Avhich  conforting  to  his  wifh,  he  went  round 
to  bed,  and  in  the  morning  fcole  awaie  early,  neither  pay- 
ing dame  Lecherie  for  her  hire,  nor  leaning  her  one  ragge 
to  put  on. 

Here  was  wilie  beguily  rightly  acted,  &  an  aged  Ram- 
palion  put  befides  her  fchoole-trickes.  But  fmiply,  thefe 
Crofbiters  are  neceffarie  inftrumcnts  now  and  then  to 
tame  fuch  wanton  youths,  as  will  not  let  a  maid  or  a  wife 
paffe  a  long  the  ftreetes  but  they  will  be  medling  Vvith  her: 
what  they  do  they  learne  of  the  tumbler,  who  lies  fquat  in 
the  brakes  till  the  Conie  be  come  forth  out  of  her  burrow, 
and  gone  a  goffiping  ouer  the  way  to  her  next  neighbors, 
&  then  he  goes  between  her  and  home,  and  as  fhc  returneth 
with  two  or  three  flefhly  minded  Rabbets  or  Simplers 
with  them,  with  whom  it  male  be  fhc  hath  made  a  bargain 
to  go  a  bucking,  then  out  flies  the  tumbler  like  y^  crofbiter 
8c  feazeth  on  them  all  for  his  praie.  I  maruell  that  the  book 
of  Conicatching  had  not  him  vp  in  his  table,  fince  by  his 
firft  example  he  corrupted  the  Chriftian  people.  But  you 
will  fay,  he  is  animal  irrationalc,  and  therefore  to  be  borne 
withall,  becaufe  he  doth  but  his  kind.  Kind  me  no  kind, 
there  is  more  knauerie  in  Cauilier  Canis  then  you  arc  a- 
warc  of,  as  you  fliall  perceiue  by  his  difcourfe  following. 

D3  A 


Greenes     Ghoft 

A  notable  Scholerlike  difcourfe  vpon  the 
nature  of  Dogges. 

NOw  Gentlemen,  will  you  giue  me  leaue  to  dallie  a 
little  for  your  further  recreation,  &  I  Vvill  prouc  vnto 
you  that  a  dogge  is  a  dangerous  man,  and  not  to  be  dealt 
withal! :  yea  he  is  fuch  a  kind  of  creature  that  he  may  well 
be  mafber  and  gouernour  ouer  all  ordinary  beafts :  for  firft 
and  formoft,  there  is  no  man  of  experience  that  vrill  denic 
but  dogs  do  excell  in  outward  fence,  for  they  will  fmell  bet- 
ter then  we,  and  therby  hunt  the  game  when  they  fee  it  not. 
Befides,  they  get  the  fight  of  it  better  then  we,  and  are 
wonderful!  quiclcc  of  hearing.  But  let  vs  come  to  fpeech, 
which  is  either  inv/ard  or  outward.  Now  that  t!iey  haue 
outward  fpeech  I  make  no  queftion,  although  we  cannot 
vnderftand  them,  for  tliey  baric  as  good  old  Saxon  as  may 
be;  yea  they  haue  it  in  more  daintie  maner  tha  we,  for  tliey 
!iaue  one  Icind  of  voice  in  the  chafe,  and  another  wlien  they 
arc  beaten,  and  another  when  they  fight.  That  they  haue 
the  inward  fpeech  of  m.ind,  which  is  chiefly  conuerfant  in 
thofe  things  wliich  agree  witli  our  nature,  or  are  moft  a- 
gainft  it,  in  knowing  thofe  things  which  fland  vs  moft  in 
fteed,  &  attaining  thofe  vertues  which  belong  to  our  pro- 
per life,  and  are  moft  conuerfant  in  our  affeftions,  thus  I 
proue:  firft  and  formoft  he  choofeth  thofe  things  that  are 
c5modious  vnto  him,  and  fliunneth  the  contrarie :  He  Icno- 
weth  what  is  good  for  his  diet,  and  feelceth  about  for  it.  At 
the  fight  of  a  whip  he  runneth  away  like  a  theef  from  a  hue 
and  crie.  Neither  is  he  an  idle  fellow  that  Hues  like  a  tren- 
cher Flic  vpon  the  fweat  of  other  mens  browes,  but  hath 
naturaliie  a  trade  to  get  his  lining  by,  as  namely  the  arte 
of  hunting  and  Conicatching,  which  thefe  late  books  go  a- 
bout  to  difcredit.  Yea,  there  be  of  them  as  of  men  of  a!l  oc- 
cupations, fome  Caricrs,  and  they  will  fetch;  fome  water- 
men, and  they  will  diue  and  fwim  when  you  bid  them ;  fome 
butchers,  and  they  will  kill  fheepe ;  fome  cookes,  and  they 
turne  the  fpit.    Neither  are  they  void  of  vertue;  for  if  that  be 



haunting    Conicatchers. 

luftice  that  giues  euery  one  his  deferts,  out  of  doubt  dogs 
are  not  deftitute  of  it :  for  they  fawne  vpon  their  famihar 
friends  and  acquaintance;  they  defend  thofc  from  danger 
that  haue  deferued  well  of  them,  and  reuenge  them  of 
ftrangers,  and  fuch  as  either  haue,  or  go  about  to  do  them 
iniurie.  Then  if  they  haue  luftice,  they  haue  all  the  ver- 
tues,  fmce  this  is  an  Axioma  in  Philofophy,  that  one  ver- 
tuc  cannot  be  feparated  from  another. 

Further,  we  fee  they  are  full  of  magnanimitie,  in  in- 
countring  their  enemies.  They  are  v/ife,  as  Homer  wit- 
neffeth,  who  entreating  of  the  returne  of  Vlyffes  to  his 
owne  houfe,  affirmeth  that  all  his  houfliold  had  forgotten 
him  but  his  dogge  Argus,  and  him  neither  could  Pallas  by 
her  fubtill  arte  deceiue  in  the  alteration  of  his  body,  nor 
his  twentie  yeares  abfence  in  his  beggers  weeds  delude  a- 
nic  whit,  but  he  ftil  retained  his  forme  in  his  fantafie,  which 
as  it  appeared  was  better  then  any  mans  of  that  time. 

According  to  Chryfippus,  they  are  not  ignorant  of  that 
excellent  facultie  of  Logicke,  for  he  faith  that  a  dogge  by 
canuafmg  and  ftudy  doth  obtaine  the  knowledge  to  diftin- 
guifh  betweene  three  feuerall  things,  as  for  example,  where 
three  waies  meete,  and  of  thcfe  three  hath  ftaid  at  tvv'o  of 
them,  by  which  he  perceiueth  the  game  hath  not  gone,  pre- 
fently  without  more  adoe  hee  runneth  violently  on  the 
third  waie:  which  doth  argue  (faith  Chryfippus)  as  if  hee 
fliould  reafon  thus.  Either  hee  vrent  this  way,  or  that 
way,  or  yonder  waie:  but  neither  that  waie,  nor  yonder 
waie,  therefore  this  wa}'.  Againe,  when  they  arc  ficke, 
they  knowe  what  difeafe  they  haue,  and  deuife  howe  they 
may  eafe  themfelues  of  their  griefe;  if  one  ftrike  them  in- 
to the  flefli  with  a  ftake,  this  policy  they  vfe  to  get  it  out. 
They  traile  one  of  their  feet  vp5  the  ground,  and  gnaweth 
the  flefh  where  the  wound  is  round  about  with  their  teeth, 
vntill  they  haue  drawne  it  clcanc  out.  If  they  chaunce  to 
haue  anie  vlcer,  becaufe  vlcers  kept  foule  are  hardlie  cu- 
red, they  licke  the  fore  with  their  tongues,  and  keepe  it 
cleane.  And  wonderfull  well  doc  they  obferue  the  pre- 

Greenes    Ghofl 

ccpt  of  Hippocrates  that  the  onclie  medicine  for  the  foote  is 
to  reft,  for  if  they  hauc  anie  hurt  in  their  fecte,  they  beare 
them  vp,  and  as  much  as  lies  in  them,  take  care  they  be  not 
ftirrcd:  when  vnprofitable  humours  trouble  them,  they 
cate  an  hearbe,  whereby  they  vomite  vp  all  that  is  offen- 
fiue  vnto  them,  and  fo  recouers  their  health  againe.  How 
thinke  you  my  mafters,  are  thefe  vnreafonable  creatures, 
that  hauc  all  this  naturall  reafon  in  them?  No,  though 
they  are  beafts,  yet  are  they  not  as  other  are,  inhumane: 
for  they  hauc  more  humanitie  then  any  other  beafts  Avhat- 
foeuer.  But  of  them  I  have  faid  enough,  &  therfore  I  will 
proccede  to  my  former  argument:  wherein  for  your  better 
delight,  I  will  acquaint  you  with  a  true  ftorie  latelic  per- 
formed in  Poules  Church  by  a  couple  of  Cutpurfes.  The 
matter  was  of  fuch  truth,  as  I  could  for  neede  fet  downe 
the  Gentlemans  name,  and  alfo  the  names  of  all  the  a- 
clors  therein,  but  I  crauc  pardon,  becaufe  the  Gentleman 
was  of  good  place  and  credit,  and  for  more  affurance  my 
felfe  was  prefent :  the  whole  matter  fell  out  as  followeth. 

How  a  Countrie  Gentleman  walkinc:  in  Ponies  had 

his  purfe  cut  by  a  new  kind  of  conueyance, 

and  in  the  end  by  the  like  wilie 

beguily  got  it  againe. 

A  Countrie  Gentleman  of  fome  credite  walking  in 
Powlcs,  as  tearmers  are  wont  that  wait  on  their  law- 
yers, was  feene  by  a  couple  of  light  fingred  companions, 
that  had  got  fome  gentlemanfliip  vpon  them  by  priuie  bi- 
ting in  y^  dark,  to  have  fome  ftore  of  crownes  in  his  purfe 
coacht  in  a  faire  trunke  flop,  like  a  boulting  hutch.  Alas, 
they  were  mortall,  and  could  not  choofe  but  bee  tempted 
with  fo  glorious  an  obic6l.  For  what  male  not  gold  doe 
with  him  that  hath  neither  money  nor  credit  ?  Wherefore 
in  verie  zeale  of  a  bad  fpirit,  they  confpired  how  to  make  a 
breach  in  his  pocket,  and  poffeffe  themfelues  of  their  pray. 
In  the  end  it  was  concluded  (as  neceffitie  is  neuer  with- 


haunting     Conicatchers. 

out  flratagems)  that  the  one  fliould  go  behind  him,  while  the 
other  gaue  the  ftroke  that  fliould  deuide  Hfe  and  foule.  As 
they  determined,  fo  they  brought  it  to  paffe,  for  the  good  old 
fellow  walking  verie  foberly  in  one  of  the  fide  lies,  deui- 
fing  where  to  dine  to  faue  the  odde  three  pence,  fodain- 
ly  one  of  them  ftept  behind  him  and  clapt  his  hands  be- 
fore his  eyes,  faying :  Who  am  I  ?  Who  am  I  ?  while  the 
other  gaue  the  purfe  the  gentle  ierke,  and  beguiled  his 
purfe  of  the  gilt :  which  done,  hee  went  fneaking  awaie 
like  a  dog  that  had  wearied  a  sheep.  The  good  minded  Gen- 
tlema  that  was  thus  muffled,  thinking  that  it  had  bin  one 
of  his  acquaintance,  that  plaid  bo  peepe  with  him  after 
that  fort,  cried  to  him.  Now  for  the  paffion  of  God,  who  are 
you?  Avho  are  you?  Tell  me  I  praie  you  who  are  you?  For 
I  fliall  neuer  reckon  while  I  Hue.  O,  quoth  the  Cauallero 
Cutpurfe,  you  fliall  know  by  and  by,  and  therewith  pluc- 
king awaie  his  hands,  looked  him  full  in  the  face  &  laugh- 
ed, but  by  and  by  fbarting  afide,  as  if  he  had  com.mitted  an 
errour,  God  forgiue  me  (quoth  he)  what  haue  I  done,  I 
crie  you  hartily  mercie,  I  haue  miftaken  you  for  my  ac- 
quaintance, one  that  is  fo  like  you,  as  one  peaze  is  like  a- 
nother :  and  therefore  I  pray  you  pardon  me.  No  harme 
done,  no  harme  done,  quoth  the  Gentleman,  and  fo  they 
departed.  Sinior  who  was  to  deuide  his  bootie  where  his 
companion  attended  him,  and  my  neighbour  Mumpfimus 
to  tyrannize  on  Buls  pudding-pies  for  his  fixe  pence  :  fliort 
tale  to  make,  his  hungrie  bodie  being  refrefhed,  and  euc- 
rie  one  fatiffied,  there  entred  in  a  dumbe  fhewe,  the  recko- 
ning with  a  cleane  trencher  in  his  hand  verie  orderly,  as 
who  fliould  fay.  Lay  your  hand  on  the  booke.  On  him  at- 
tended a  well  fed  Tapfter  in  a  fliining  fute  of  well  liquo- 
red fuftian,  wheron  w^as  cngrauen  the  triumphs  of  many 
full  platter,  with  his  apron  on  his  fhoulder,  and  his  knife 
vnder  his  girdle.  At  which  fight  eucry  man  began  to  draw, 
and  my  honeft  penifather  thought  to  droppe  tefters  with 
the  reft :  but  woe  alas,  his  breeches  were  like  the  bottom- 
leffe  pit  of  hell,  for  there  was  not  one  croffe  to  be  found. 

E  Then 

Greenes     Ghoft 

Then  began  he  to  fume  and  chafe,  and  run  vp  and  downc 
hke  a  mad  man,  faying,  Well  a  day  yt  eucr  I  was  borne 
Who  am  I  ?  who  am  I  ?  Whereat  the  reft  of  the  Gentle- 
men wondring,  he  vp  and  told  them  the  whole  ftorie  of  his 
miffortune,  as  is  afore  recited.  And  faid,  now  I  know  who 
it  was  that  faid.  Who  am  I  ?  Avho  am  I  ?  for  in  troth  he  was 
a  cutpurfe.  But  here  did  he  not  ccafe  or  fpcnd  much  time  in 
fmging  a  Dc  profundis  ouer  his  cmptie  pocket,  where  was 
nought  els  faue  Lent  and  dcfolation,  but  iumbled  his 
braines  together  like  ftones  in  a  bladder,  and  toft  ouer  his 
thoughts  as  a  Tailer  doth  his  flireds  when  he  hath  loft  his 
needle,  to  find  out  fome  meanes  to  fetch  home  his  ftraied 
purfe,  and  to  be  euen  Avith  thofe  vndermining  Pioners. 
In  the  end  his  pillow  and  prefent  pouertie  put  this  poli- 
cie  into  his  head.  The  next  day  early  in  the  morning  he 
went  into  Poules  in  the  fame  apparell,  and  walking  iuft  in 
the  fame  place  where  he  loft  the  mainc  chance  the  day  be- 
fore, hauing  bought  him  a  faire  new  purfe  with  white 
ftrings  and  great  taffels,  and  filled  the  fame  with  braffe 
counters,  and  thruft  it  into  the  flop  of  his  hofe,  as  he  was 
wont,  letting  the  ftrings  thereof  hang  out  for  a  trainc. 
Well,  fo  it  fell  out,  that  he  had  fcarce  fetcht  three  turnes,  but 
a  poore  woman  that  had  the  fhaking  ague  in  her  head 
came  to  aflce  his  charitie :  he  glad  of  anie  occafion  to  boaft 
his  counterfeit  wealth,  to  entrap  the  eyes  of  thofe  hungrie 
efpials,  gaue  her  a  penie,  and  therewith  drew  forth  a  num- 
ber of  counters,  making  fliev/  as  if  they  had  bdene  French 
crownes  :  which  was  prefently  perceiued  by  Timothy  touch 
and  take,  that  had  beene  in  the  a6lion  the  day  before,  who  fit- 
ting vnder  a  piller,  leaning  like  one  tvv'ixt  fleeping  and  wa- 
king, fell  into  a  great  longing,  how  he  might  haue  that 
purfe  alfo  to  beare  the  other  companie.  Still  the  olde 
Snudge  went  plodding  in  one  path,  and  euer  looked  vnder 
his  ouerhanged  moffie  eye-broAves,  to  fee  who  came  neere 
him,  or  once  offer  to  iuftle  him.  He  had  befide  at  cither  end 
of  the  lie  on  of  his  men  to  watch,  for  feare  any  more,  Who 
am  I.^  ftnild  come  behind  him.    At  laft  out  fteps  my  nimble 



hauntinor     Conlcatchers. 


knaue,  and  running  haftily  by  him  like  fomc  prentife,  that 
had  beene  fent  of  an  errand,  he  fliced  it  fmoothly  away,  fo 
as  the  gentleman  neuer  perceiued  it.     But  one  of  his  men 
who  had  his  fenfes  both  of  feeing  and  feeling  better  then 
his  mafter,  marked  when  he  gaue  him  the  gentle  gleeke, 
and  whither  he  went  when  hee  had  obtained  his  bootie : 
whereupon  dogging  him  to  a  Cookes  flioppe  in  Thames 
ftreet ;  to  which  place  alfo  the  Gentlema  followed  aloofe  off. 
He  there  laid  hands  on  him,  and  challenged  him  for  a  Cut- 
purfe,  faying,  he  had  feene  him  doe  fuch  a  thing  in  Poules, 
and  told  him  alfo  from  whom  he  tooke  it.    He  fwore  and  fta- 
red,  and  fbood  at  vtter  defiance  with  him.     And  the  better  to 
outface  the  matter,  his  partner,  who  being  then  lodged  in 
the  fame  houfe,  came  downe  and  fell  in  tearmcs  of  doing 
the  Gentleman  wrong,  and  that  he  fliould  anfwer  him,  or 
any  man  els.     And  (quoth  he)  if  thou  wert  well  ferued  thou 
fliouldefl:  be  ftabd  for  offering  to  difcredit  him  thus  at  his 
lodging.     Meane  while  that  thefe  matters  were  thus  dif- 
puting,    and    the    poore    feruingmans    death   with    manie 
oathes  vowed,  in  came  his  mafter,  who  fpying,  Who  am  I  ? 
to  ftand  vpon  his  pantofles  fo  proudly,  ftraight  tooke  him 
afide,  and  told  him  a  tale  in  his  eare,  that  did  him  fmall 
good  at  the  heart,  and  faid  flatly  hee  was  the  man,  and 
no  other  whom  he  fought  for,  and  either  he  would  haue  re- 
ftitution  for  his   purfe   at  his  hands,  or  they  would  trie 
a  conclufion  at  Tyborne.     At  which  fpeech  their  courage 
was  fomewhat  abated :  and  in  the  end  it  fo  fell  out,  to  a- 
uoid  further  trouble  they  refiored  him  both  the  purfes  with 
quietnes,  and  made  him  a  fulificient   recompence  for  the 
trefpaffe.     Thus  at  that  time  they  efcaped,  and  all  parties 
were  pleafed  :  but  fhortly  after  they  were  taken  for  fuch  an 
other  fa6l,  for  which  they  were  both  condemned  and  execu- 
ted at  Tyborne. 

Now  Gentlemen,  haue  you  not  heard  a  pretic  pranke 
of  Wilie  beguily,  where  the  cunning  Cutpurfe  was  pin- 
ched in  his  owne  pra6tife .-'  fure  I  thinke  neuer  was  poore 
Nip  fo  nipt  before.     Wherefore  I  wifli  all  thofe  that  arc  of 

E  2  that 


Greenes     Ghoft 

that  facultie  to  be  carefull  of  the  right  Nip,  who  if  he  bee 
neuer  fo  cunning  in  his  arte,  yet  at  one  time  or  other  hee 
maie  hap  to  mecte  with  Bui,  and  his  fturdie  lade,  on  whom 
if  he  chance  to  ride  v^-ith  his  necke  fnarled  in  an  hempen 
halter,  he  is  like  to  receiue  fo  fliarpe  a  nip,  that  it  will  for 
euermore  marre  his  drinking  place. 

A  notable  exploit  performed  by  a  Lift. 

npHere  was  not  long  fmce  one  of  our  former  profeffi- 
-■"  on,  hauing  intelligence  of  a  Citizen  that  inuited  three 
or  foure  of  his  friends  to  dinner,  came  a  little  before  din- 
ner time,  and  marked  when  the  gueftes  were  all  come : 
when  they  were  all  come,  as  he  thought,  knowing  the  good- 
man  of  the  houfc  fafe  (for  he  was  not  yet  come  from  the  ex- 
change) fteps  vp  the  ftaires  boldly,  and  comes  into  the 
roome  where  the  guefbs  were  :  when  he  comes  in  he  falutes 
them,  and  aflces  if  his  cofen  were  not  yet  come  from  the 
Exchange.  They  told  him  no.  No  (faith  he)  me  thinks  he  is 
verie  long,  it  is  paft  twelue  of  the  clocke.  Then  after  a 
turne  or  two.  In  faith  Gentlemen  (quoth  my  new  come 
gueft)  it  were  good  to  doe  fomething  whereat  we  may  bee 
merie  againft  my  cofen  comes  home,  and  to  that  intent 
I  will  take  this  Salt  and  hide  it,  that  when  hee  miffeth  it, 
wc  fliall  fee  v/hat  he  will  fay  to  my  cofen  his  wife  :  fo  hee 
tooke  the  Salt,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  walked  a 
turne  or  two  more  about  the  roome,  within  a  while  when  yc 
other  guefls  were  bufie  in  talk,  he  fteps  downe  the  ftaires 
faining  to  make  water ;  but  when  he  was  downe,  he  tur- 
ned downe  Theeucs  allie,  and  neuer  returned  againe.  The 
Citizen  when  he  came  home  bid  his  friends  welcome,  and 
anon  he  mift  the  Salt  that  fliould  be  fet  on  the  table,  called 
his  wife  to  know  if  there  were  neuer  a  Salt  in  the  houfe : 
His  wife  bufie  about  dinner,  tooke  her  hufband  vp,  as 
women  at  fuch  times  will  do,  when  they  are  a  little  trou- 
bled (for  a  little  thing  troubles  them  God  wot)  and  afked 
him  if  he  had  no  eyes  in  his  head.     No,  nor  you  wife  (quoth 



haunting     Conicatchers. 

hee)  if  you  fay  there  be  any  now :  So  there  pafl  many 
flirewd  and  hot  words  betweene  them.  At  length  the 
guefts  vnwilHng  they  fhould  difagree  on  fo  fmall  a  trifle, 
they  vp  and  told  how  one  came  in  and  aflced  for  his  cofen, 
and  tooke  away  the  Salt,  meaning  to  make  a  little  mirth 
at  dinner.  But  when  they  faw  he  returned  no  more,  they 
contented  themfelues  with  patience,  and  went  to  dinner, 
as  men  at  fuch  times  vfc  to  do,  with  heauy  hearts  and  cold 

^  I  "'Here  are  a  ccrtaine  band  of  Raggamuffin  Prentifes 
-^  about  the  towne,  that  will  abufe  anie  vpon  the  fmal- 
left  occafion  that  is,  and  fuch  men  (whom  they  neuer 
came  to  the  credit  in  all  their  lines  to  make  cleane  their 
fhooes)  thefc  dare  neuer  meete  a  man  in  the  face  to  auouch 
their  rogarie,  but  forfooth  they  muft  haue  the  help  of  fome 
other  their  complices.  Of  this  bafc  fort  you  fliall  common- 
ly find  them  at  Playhoufes  on  holy  dayes,  and  there  they 
will  be  playing  their  parts,  or  at  fome  rout,  as  the  pulling 
downe  of  Baudie  houfes,  or  at  fome  good  exploit  or  other, 
fo  that  if  you  need  helpe,  or  you  thinkc  your  felfe  not  able 
to  make  your  part  good  with  anie  that  you  owe  a  grudge 
to,  no  more  but  repaire  to  one  of  thefe,  and  for  a  canne  of 
Ale  they  will  do  as  much  as  another  for  a  crowne  :  &  thefe 
make  no  more  confcience  to  beat  or  lame  one,  whom  they 
neuer  before  faw  nor  knew,  then  the  knights  of  the  poafts 
when  they  are  feed  out  of  Poules  to  fweare  falfly. 

There  are  another  fort  of  Prentifes,  that  when  they  fee 
a  Gentlewoman  or  a  countriman  minded  to  buy  anie 
thing,  they  will  fawne  vpon  them  with  their  cap  in  hand, 
with  what  lacke  you  Gentlewoman  ?  what  lacke  you 
Countriman  ?  See  what  you  lacke.  The  Gentlewoman 
perufing  diuers  commodities,  findeth  nothing  that  per- 
haps likes  her  :  then  going  away,  they  come  off  with  their 
ouerworne  frumps.  Will  you  buy  nothing  Gentlewo- 
man .''  Its  no  maruell  you  fhould  fee  fuch  choice  of  good 
ware.     Then  they  begin  to  difcommend  her  perfon  to  their 

E  3  next 


Greenes     Ghoft 

next  neighbors,  as  good  as  themfelues,  and  at  next  word, 
Send  a  fine  dogge  after  her.  Thefe  maie  bee  Hkened  to 
currifli  Spaniels,  that  when  a  man  comes  into  the  houfe 
will  fawne  vpon  him,  but  before  he  goes  forth,  if  hee  take 
not  heed,  will  catch  him  by  the  fliinnes.  But  if  they  meete 
with  a  countric-man,  he  is  the  fitteft  man  in  the  world  to 
deale  vpon.  They  will  afke  him  iuft  twife  fo  much  as  the 
ware  is  worth.  The  plaine  fimple  man  offers  within  a 
verle  little  of  his  price,  as  they  vfe  in  the  countrie :  which 
the  Apprentife  takes,  and  fweares  it  was  not  his  for  that 
money,  and  fo  makes  the  poore  man  a  right  Conie.  I  think 
few  in  the  Exchange  w.ill  account  this  for  a  Conicatching 
tricke.  But  if  the  countriman  leaues  them  and  goes  his 
waie  without  buying  anie  thing,  either  for  that  hee  likes 
not  the  ware,  or  that  it  is  of  too  high  a  price  :  then  will 
they  come  off  with,  Do  you  heare  Countriman,  will  you 
giue  me  thus  much,  and  leaue  your  blew  coate  for  a  pawn 
for  the  reft .''  or  they  will  bid  him  fell  his  fword  and  buy  a 
paire  of  fliooes  ?  or  fuch  like  fcoffing  girds,  that  the  poore 
man  fometimes  could  find  in  his  heart  to  giue  all  the  mo- 
ney in  his  purfe,  that  he  had  them  in  Finfburie  fields,  that 
hee  might  reuenge  himfelfe  on  them  for  abufing  him :  a 
verie  great  abufe  to  their  maifters  and  chapmen. 

To  this  focietie  maie  be  coupled  alfo  another  fraternity, 
viz.  Water-rats,  Watermen  I  meane,  that  will  be  rea- 
die  &  very  diligent  for  anie  man,  vntil  they  can  get  them 
to  their  boates,  but  when  they  come  to  land  to  paie  their 
fare,  if  you  paie  them  not  to  their  ownc  contentments, 
you  fliall  be  fure  of  fome  gird  or  other,  yea  and  perhaps  if 
they  know  they  haue  an  Affe  to  deale  with,  flop  his  hat  or 
his  cloake,  till  he  haue  paid  them  what  they  lift ;  but  thefe 
arc  moft  commonlic  fcruants  and  apprentifcs  :  for  the  or- 
der is,  that  for  euerie  tweluc  pence  they  carne  their  mai- 
fter  allowes  them  two  pence,  fo  then  the  more  they  get, 
whether  by  hook  or  crookc,  the  more  think  they  their  gaine 
comes  in.  But  this  fort  now  and  then  meete  with  their 
mates,  who  in  fteed  of  a  penie  more  in  filuer,  fend  them  to 


hauntine     Coiilcatchers. 


the  Chirurgians  with  two  penie  worth  of  forrow. 

But  what  need  I  to  fpend  time  in  deciphering  thefe  com- 
mon companions?  Thefe  few  I  hauc  particularly  named, 
but  thinke  you  there  are  no  more  of  this  kind  ?  But  I  let 
paffe  Carmen  and  Dreymen,  as  verie  knaues  as  the  reft, 
becaufe  thefe  are  better  knowne  then  I  can  fet  them  forth: 
I  meane  not  at  this  time,  nor  in  this  Treatife  to  fet  forth 
the  guiles  and  deceits  accuftomed  in  all  trades  and  my- 
fteries  from  the  chiefeft  trade  to  the  bafeft,  but  will  con- 
tent my  felfe  for  this  time,  with  that  that  hath  beene  alrea- 
die  dilated,  intending  in  fome  other  Treatife,  at  one  time 
or  other  to  relate  in  briefe  what  hath  beene  at  large  too  long 
put  in  praclife. 

In  the  meane  time  curteous  Citizens,  let  me  exhort 
you  to  become  good  exaples  to  your  family:  for  as  the  ma- 
fter  is,  so  commonly  is  the  feruant,  as  witnes  the  old  ver- 
fes  in  the  Sheppards  Calender  in  September. 

Sike  as  the  Sheppards,  fike  beene  her  flieepe. 

And  be  fure,  if  thy  feruant  fee  thee  giuen  to  fpending,  and 
vnchaft  lining,  there  looke  thy  feruant,  when  thou  thinkeft 
he  is  about  thy  bufmeffe,  not  onely  fpends  his  time  vainly, 
but  that  money,  which  by  thy  care  in  ftaying  at  home  thou 
mighteft  haue  faued.  Such  iollie  fhauers,  that  are  deepe 
flafhers  of  others,  mens  hides,  haue  I  knowne  (more  is 
the  pitie)  to  fit  vp  all  night,  fome  at  Cardes  and  Dice, 
fome  quaffing  and  fwilling  at  the  Tauerne,  and  other  a- 
mong  their  trulles,  fpending  in  one  night  fome  twentie 
fliillings,  and  thirtie  fhillings  often:  fome  againe  that 
can  maintaine  to  themfelues  a  wench  all  the  yeare,  and 
then  they  muft  filch  and  purloine  \vhole  peeces  of  ftuffe  for 
their  gownes  and  peticoats,  befides  great  ftore  of  mony  : 
But  thefe  are  fuch  that  can  with  a  wet  finger,  and  by  rca- 
fon  of  abundance  of  ware  purloine  their  maifters  goods,  & 
not  eafily  be  efpied.  But  be  fure  at  one  time  or  other  fuch 
villains  wil  come  forth :  for  the  pot  goes  fo  oft  to  the  \\-ater, 
that  at  laft  it  comes  home  crackt.     And  take  this  for  a 



Greenes     Ghoft 

principle  and  general  rule,  that  whofoeucr  he  be  that  giues 
himfelfe  to  this  damnable  finne  of  luft,  let  him  be  affured, 
as  fure  as  he  had  it  alrcadie,  that  a  great  puniflimcnt  han- 
geth  ouer  his  head.  Therefore  it  behooues  the  maifter  to 
be  wife  in  gouerning  his  fcruants,  that  they  may  bee  as 
markes  for  their  fcruants  to  flioote  at,  to  fee  how  their  fcr- 
uants bee  addi6lcd  and  giuen,  and  not  to  be  fterne  and  fc- 
uere  towards  them,  but  rather  keepe  them  in,  that  they 
wander  not  abroad  more  then  ncceffitie  forceth,  rcmem- 
bring  that  rule  that  Ouid  giueth. 

Parcc  pucr  JliviuUs  &  fortius  vfcrc  lor  is. 

Spare  the  whip,  raine  them  hard :  for  fuch  as  arc  growne 
to  yeares  will  hardly  endure  blowes,  wherefore  the  rai- 
ning them  from  their  defires  is  the  next  way  in  my  mind 
to  bring  them  to  good. 

But  here  is  the  griefc  that  thofe  that  fliould  giue  light 
are  darke ;  thofe  that  fliould  be  guides  haue  need  to  be  lead ; 
thofe  that  fhould  inftrucl  to  fobrietie,  are  inducers  to  vani- 
tie,  according  to  thofe  verfes  in  Male, 

Thofe  faitors  littell  regarden  their  charge, 
While  they  letting  their  flieep  runne  at  large, 
Paffen  their  time  that  fliould  be  fparcly  fpent, 
In  luflineffe  and  wanton  nierlment. 
Thilke  fame  be  Sheppards  for  the  diuels  fleed, 
That  playen,  &c. 

Againe,  what  confcience  they  vfc  in  bargaining  and  fel- 
ling, witneffe  the  whole  world,  according  to  Diggon  in 

They  fettcn  to  fiile  their  fliops  of  fliame, 
And  maken  a  market  of  their  good  name. 
The  flieppards  there  robbcn  one  another. 
And  layen  baites  to  beguilde  her  brother. 



haunting     Conicatchers. 

And  againe, 

Or  they  bine  falfe  or  full  of  couetife, 

And  caflen  to  compaffe  many  wrong  emprife. 

In  fine,  to  conclude  with  that  which  we  haue  fo  long 
ftood  vpon,  namely  with  vncleanneffe,  how  hard  it  is  for 
men  to  bee  reclaimed  from  it :  and  as  it  is  pernicious  to 
all  generally,  fo  particularly  to  young  men  that  haue 
newlie  fet  vp  for  themfelues,  and  haue  as  it  were  new- 
ly entred  into  the  world,  foone  male  they  cafb  awaie  them 
felues,  except  they  looke  the  better  about  them  :  but  mofl 
odious  for  fuch  that  haue  wiues,  with  whom  they  may  fo- 
lace  themfelues.  Pitie  it  is  that  fuch  cannot  be  noted  a- 
boue  the  reft,  it  fhewes  an  inordinate  luft.  And  nowe  it 
comes  in  my  mind,  I  will  impart  with  a  tricke  ferued 
vpon  a  maried  man,  and  a  tradefman  by  a  good  wench,  as 
they  call  them,  reported  and  heard  from  her  owne  mouth 
not  long  fmce.  The  parties  names  I  will  conceale,  be- 
caufe  fome  of  them  are  of  fome  credite,  although  fome- 
what  blemifhed  by  this  flcarre  :  and  it  was  on  this  maner. 

How  a  Citizen  was  ferued  by  a  Curtizan. 

*"  I  ^Here  was  one  Mounfieur  Libidinofo  dwelling  at  the 
■*■  figne  of  Incontinencie,  hauing  cafb  vp  his  accounts 
for  the  weeke  paft  (for  it  was  Saturday  night)  after  fup- 
per  refolued  with  himfelfe  to  walkc,  which  way  he  cared 
not,  but  as  his  ftafife  fell,  fo  would  he  wend  :  by  chance  it 
fell  Weflward,  and  Weftward  he  went,  vntill  he  came 
to  Whitefriers.  When  he  came  thither  he  bethought  him- 
felfe, and  held  it  a  deed  of  charitie  to  fee  fome  of  his  old  ac- 
quaintance, whom  hee  had  not  vifited  a  long  time  before : 
But  they  according  to  the  ancient  cuftome  were  remo- 
ued,  for  they  vfe  not  to  flay  long  in  a  place.  He  hearing 
that,  made  no  more  ado  but  fel  aboord  with  one  that  came 
next  to  hand,  as  good  as  the  beft,  one  that  had  beene  tried, 
and  fuch  a  one  as  would  not  fhrinke  at  a  fliower :  little 

F  in- 


Greenes     Ghoft 

intreatic  Icrucs,  and  vp  they  goc.  When  after  their 
beaftly  fport  and  pleafure  Mounfieur  Libid.  heat  of  luft 
was  fomeA\'hat  affwaged,  and  ready  to  goc,  feeling  his 
pocket  for  a  vencrcall  remuneration  finds  nothing  but  a 
Tefter,  or  at  Icaft  fo  little,  that  it  was  not  fufficient  to 
pleafc  dame  Pleafure  for  her  hire.  He  protefted  and  vow- 
ed he  had  no  more  about  him  now :  for  (faid  he)  when  I 
came  forth  I  neur  thought  Avhat  money  I  had  about  me. 
My  Ladie  would  not  beleeue  Monf.  Libid.  a  great  while, 
but  fcarched  and  feeled  for  more  coine,  but  at  that  time 
file  was  fruftrate  of  her  expe6lation  :  fhe  feeing  no  rcme- 
die,  fet  as  good  a  countenance  on  the  matter  as  flie  could, 
and  told  him  flie  would  be  contented  for  that  time,  hoping 
hee  would  bee  more  beneficiall  to  her  hereafter.  They 
were  both  contented :  where  no  fooncr  hee  is  gone 
downe  the  ftaires,  but  fliee  whips  off  her  gowne,  and 
puts  on-  a  white  Avaftcoate  with  a  trice,  and  fo  dogs  M. 
Libidiiiof.  home  to  his  houfe,  and  taking  a  perfect  view  of 
his  houfe  and  figne,  returnes  back  againe.  On  IMonday 
morning  fhc  came  to  his  houfe  verie  orderly  in  her  gown 
with  her  handbafl^et  in  her  hand,  where  flie  found  Monf 
Libid.  and  his  wife  in  the  fliop  :  when  flie  came  in  fhe  cal- 
led for  this  fort  and  that  fort  of  lace,  vntill  flic  had  called 
for  as  much  ware  as  came  to  twentie  fliillings :  when 
fhe  was  ready  to  goe,  flie  whifpered  my  Gentleman  in 
the  eare,  and  afl-ced  him.  If  he  be  remembred  how  fleight- 
ly  fucli  a  time  he  rewarded  her  kindneffe,  but  now  I  am 
fatiffied  for  this  time.  M.  Libid.  vras  in  a  wonderfull 
ftrcight,  and  gaue  her  not  a  word  for  an  anfwer,  fearing 
his  wife  fliould  knoA\'e  anie  thing.  His  wife  noting  her 
whifpering  in  her  hufbands  eare,  and  feeing  no  mony  paid, 
afked  her  hufband  Avhen  flie  was  gone,  who  flie  was.  Hee 
verie  fmoothly  told  her,  fliee  was  a  very  lioneft  cutters 
wife,  and  that  hee  knew  her  a  long  time  to  bee  a  good 
paymaifter.  This  anfwer  contented  his  wife :  but  ful  well 
I  know  he  was  not  cotented  in  his  mind  al  the  day  after. 



hauntine     Conicatchers. 


See  here  hov/  a  man  may  bee  vnawares  ouertakeii 
by  thefe  filthie  Pitchbarrels.  Then  let  this  example  teach 
thee  to  forgoe  their  allurements,  leafl  thou  in  time  be  de- 
filed with  the  like  blot,  or  ouerplunged  in  a  deeper  bog : 

Fcelix  quifacit  alicna  pcricida  cautum. 

For  thefe  night  birdes  not  vnlike  the  Syrens,  the  more 
you  frequent  them,  the  more  you  fliall  be  intangled,  accor- 
ding to  thefe  verfes,  Diggon  in  Sept. 

For  they  beene  like  foule  v.-agmoires  ouergrafl, 

That  if  thy  gallage  once  flicketh  fafl, 

The  more  to  wind  it  out  thou  doeft  fwincke, 

Thou  mought  ay  deeper  and  deeper  fmcke. 

Yet  better  leaue  of  with  littell  loffe, 

Then  by  much  wreflling  to  leefe  the  groffe. 

Thefe  may  be  motiues  to  all  to  auoide  fuch  infectious 
plague-fores:  but  how  hard  it  is  to  get  vp  a  tyred  iade 
when  he  is  downe,  efpecially  in  the  dirt  euery  man 
knowes,  and  men  wil  haue  their  fwinge  do  all  what  they 
can,  according  to  Thcnot  in  February. 

Mud  not  the  world  wend  in  his  common  courfe, 
From  good  to  bad;  and  from  bad  to  worfe; 
From  worfe  vnto  that  is  worfl  of  all, 
And  then  returne  to  his  former  fall. 

But  for  my  part  I  am  refolued  and  wifli  all  men  of  the 
like  mind  fticking  my  flafife  by  Peirfe  in  Llaie. 

Sheppard,  I  lifl  no  accordance  make 
With  fheppard  that  does  the  right  way  forfake, 
And  of  the  twaine  if  choife  were  to  me 
Had  leuer  my  foe  then  my  friend  to  be. 

F  2  The 


Greenes     Ghofl 


and  deceltfull  pranks  of  Doctor 

Notable  fellow  of  this  trade  well  ftric- 
ken  in  yeares,  one  that  was  free  of  the 
Nitmongers,  trauelled  with  his  boy  in- 
to Yorkefliire.  And  hauing  no  mony  in 
his  purfe,  nor  other  meanes  to  relieue 
himfelfe  but  plainc  fliifting,  grewe  into 
vtter  defpairc  of  his  eftate,  by  reafon  hec  had  worne  all 
cofonagcs  threcd  bare,  and  made  the  vttcrmofl:  of  his 
wit  that  was  poffible.  Wherefore  complaining  himfelf 
to  his  truflie  page,  that  had  beene  patncr  with  him  both 
in  weale  and  woe,  and  whom  hee  had  brought  vp  in  his 
occupation,  and  taught  to  be  as  fubtill  as  himfelfe:  but 
Maifter  (quoth  he)  take  no  care,  for  when  all  is  gone 
and  nothing  left,  well  fare  the  Dagger  with  the  dudge- 
on haft.  I  am  young  and  haue  crochets  in  my  head:  I 
warrant  you,  while  I  haue  my  fine  fenfes  we  will  not 
begge.  Goe  you  and  take  vp  your  lodging  in  the  faireft 
Inne  in  the  towne,  and  call  in  luftily,  fparing  for  no  cofl, 
and  let  me  alone  to  pay  for  all.  With  this  refolution  they 
went  into  York  citic,  where  feeing  a  verie  faire  Tauern, 
readie  to  outface  the,  according  to  the  boyes  aduife,  they 
put  into  it,  &  called  for  a  roomc,  and  none  might  content 
them  but  the  bcft  chamber  in  the  houfe.  Then  lacke  of 
the    clocke    houfe    fummoned    the    Chambcrlaine   before 



haiintine     Conicatchers, 


him,  and  tooke  an  inuentorie  what  extraordinarie  proui- 
fion  of  vi6luals  they  had  for  dinner,  telhng  them  his 
maifter  was  no  common  man,  nor  would  he  be  plea- 
fed  with  anie  groffe  kind  of  fare.  The  Tapfter,  who 
hoping  of  gaine,  feemed  verie  feruiceable,  and  told  him 
he  fliould  want  nothing.  And  although  they  had  at  that 
time  fundrie  ftrangers,  by  rcafon  the  chiefe  luftics  of 
the  fliire  fate  there  the  fame  day  about  a  Commiffion, 
yet  promifed  to  giue  \vhat  attendance  he  might.  Thus 
did  the  Crack-rope  triumph,  and  walking  in  the  yard 
while  dinner  was  preparing,  hamered  in  his  head,  &  caft 
an  eye  about  the  houfe  to  fee  if  anie  occafion  were  offe- 
red for  him  to  worke  vpon.  At  laft  going  vp  a  paire  of 
ftayres,  hee  fpied  in  a  faire  great  Chamber  where  the 
Comm.iffioners  fate,  a  fide  fettle,  whereon  good  ftore  of 
plate  flood.  Yea,  thought  he.''  and  it  fliall  go  hard  but  He 
make  vp  my  market.  So  into  the  chamber  clofely  hee 
ftept,  not  beeing  perceiued  by  any  man,  couertly  con- 
ueyed  away  vnder  his  cloake  one  of  the  greateft  gilt 
goblets,  and  went  immediately  on  the  backfide  of  the 
houfe,  where  fpying  an  old  well,  hcc  flung  the  fame,  and 
went  his  way  vp  to  his  mafter,  to  v/hom  hee  difcouered 
what  he  had  done,  intreating  him  the  better  to  furnifli 
out  the  Pageant,  to  change  his  name,  and  call  himfelfc 
Doclor  Pinchbacke. 

This  done,  he  went  downe  into  the  kitchin  to  fee  if 
dinner  were  readie:  where  the  goodman  of  the  houfe 
began  to  queftion  with  him  what  his  Maifter  was,  and 
who  they  called  him.  Sir,  quoth  he,  Do6lor  Pinchbacke. 
What,  is  he  a  Do6lor  of  Phyficke  quoth  the  hoft.''  Yea 
marie,  quoth  the  boy,  and  a  fpeciall  good  one.  With  that 
anfwer  he  ceafed  queftioning  any  further,  but  fent  vp 
meat  to  his  dinner,  and  went  vp  himfelfe  to  bid  him 

Dinner  being  done  and  the  other  guefts  ready  to 
rife,  the   Goblet   fodainly  was   miffed,   and   great   inquiry 

F  "^  made 


Greenes    Ghoft 

made  for  it,  but  at  no  hand  it  VvOuld  be  found:  all  the 
fcruaunts  were  examined,  the  -houfe  was  thoroughlie 
fearched,  none  of  the  Gentlemen  had  it.  This  newe 
found  Do6lor  fware  hee  fawe  it  not,  the  boy  denied 
it  alfo,  yet  ftill  the  goodman  and  the  good  wife  kept 
a  great  ftirre  for  it,  and  were  readie  to  weepe  for  ve- 
rie  anger  that  they  fliould  keep  fuch  knaucs  about  them 
as  had  no  more  care,  but  retchlefly  let  a  cuppe  of  nine 
pounds  bee  ftollen,  and  no  man  knew  which  waie.  Then 
the  hofh  made  great  offers  to  haue  it  againe,  which  the 
boy  hearing,  faid,  if  they  could  cntreate  his  IMaifter  to" 
take  the  paines,  he  could  caft  a  figure,  and  fetch  it  againe 
with  heaue  and  ho.  But  not  a  word  (quoth  he)  that  I  told 
you  fo. 

The  good  man  hearing  that,  ranne  vp  in  all  haft,  and 
befought  Maifter  Do6lor  for  the  paffion  of  God  to  fland 
his  friend,  or  els  he  was  vndone.  So  it  is,  quoth  he,  that 
I  vnderftand  of  your  great  learning  and  knowledge, 
and  that  by  a  fpeciall  gift  in  Aftronomie  that  God  hath 
giuen,  you  can  tell  of  maruellous  matters,  and  helpe 
againe  to  things  that  are  loft.  I  praie  you  as  euer 
you  came  of  a  ^voman  fliewe  mee  a  little  feate  about 
my  cuppe:  and  though  I  haue  but  fmall  ftore  of  mo- 
ney, yet  will  I  beftowe  fortie  fliillings  on  you  for  your 
labour.  Maifter  Do6lor  at  the  firft  made  ftrange  of 
the  matter,  and  feemed  verie  loth  to  deale  in  it,  by 
reafon  of  the  daunger  of  the  lawe:  yet  for  that  he  fee- 
med to  bee  an  honeft  man,  and  it  grieued  him  that 
anie  fuch  thing  fiiould  happen  whileft  hee  ^^■as  in  his 
houfe,  hee  would  ftraine  a  little  with  his  cunning  to 
rclecue  him  in  the  beft  forte,  not  fo  much  for  his  mo- 
ney as  for  his  friendftiip,  and  Avore  hee  would  not  doe 
it  for  any  other  for  a  hundred  pounds,  therefore  hee  defi- 
red  him  to  leaue  him  to  himfelfe,  and  to  take  order  that 
no  man  came  to  trouble  him  for  fome  two  houres  fpace, 
and  he  fliould  fee  what  he  would  do  for  him. 



haunting    Conicatchers. 

Two  hourcs  hec  fbaycd  alone  by  himfelfe  tofling 
him  by  a  good  fire  till  he  fweat  againe,  then  paintnig 
his  face  with  a  deadifli  colour,  which  hee  caried  al- 
waies  about  with  him  for  fuch  a  purpofe,  and  then 
calling  vp  the  hofte,  told  him  that  hee  had  laboured 
fore  for  him,  and  almoft  indaungered  himfelfe  in  vn- 
dertaking  the  a6lion,  yet  by  good  fortune  hee  had  fi- 
niflied  his  bufmeffe,  and  found  where  the  cuppe  was. 
Haue  you  not  a  Avell  (quoth  hee)  on  the  backe  fide  of 
your  houfe  that  ftands  thus,  and  thus,  for  mine  ownc 
part  I  was  neuer  there  (that  I  can  tell  of)  to  fee.  Yes 
that  I  haue,  fayd  the  Hofte.  Well  (faid  Maifter  Do- 
ctor) in  the  bottomc  of  that  well  is  your  cuppe:  where- 
fore goe  fearch  prefently,  and  you  fhall  finde  my  words 
true.  The  goodman  with  all  expedition  did  as  hee 
willed  him,  and  drew  the  well  dric:  at  laft  hee  fpied  his 
Goblet  where  it  lay.  It  was  no  neede  to  bid  him  take 
it  vp,  for  in  his  owne  perfon  hee  went  downe  in  the 
bucket:  and  full  lightly  to  Maifter  Do6tour  Pinch- 
packes  chamber  hee  trudged,  and  caried  him  fortie  fliil- 
lings,  offering  him  befides  a  moneths  boord  in  requitall 
of  his  great  curtefie.  This  counterfeit  forfooth  would 
feeme  to  refufe  nothing,  but  there  lay  and  fed  vpon  the 
ftocke,  whileft  my  goodman  hofte  did  nothing  but  fill 
the  countrie  Avith  his  praife. 

Not  manie  dales  paffed  but  a  Gentleman  of  good 
credite  drawne  thither  by  the  ordinarie  report,  came  to 
vifit  him,  who  defirous  to  make  triall  of  his  cunning, 
he  craued  to  knowe  of  him  (his  wife  then  beeing  big 
with  child)  whether  it  was  a  man  childe  or  a  woman 
childe  fhe  went  Avithall.''  Hec  anfwered  he  could  fay  lit- 
tle thereto  except  he  faw  her  naked. 

The  Gentleman  although  hee  thought  it  was  no 
vfuall  thing  for  a  man  to  fee  a  woman  naked,  yet 
Phyfitions     haue     more     priuiledge     then     others,     and 



Greenes   Ghoft 

they  as  well  as  Midwiues  arc  admitted  to  any  fccrets. 
Wherefore  he  perfwaded  his  wife  to  difclofe  her  felfe 
to  him,  and  to  difpence  with  a  little  inconuenience,  fo 
they  may  be  refolued  of  fo  rare  a  fecret.  But  this  was 
Do6lor  Pinchbackes  drift,  hee  thought  to  haue  fhifted 
the  Gentleman  off  by  this  extraordinaric  impofition, 
thinking  he  would  rather  haue  furceafed  his  fute,  then 
anie  waie  haue  fuffered  him  to  fee  his  wife  naked.  In 
conclufion  a  chamber  was  prepared  warme  and  clofe,  in 
v/hich  flie  fliewcd  her  felfe,  &  twife  walked  vp  and  down 
the  chamber  naked  in  the  prefence  of  M.  Do6lor  and  her 
hufband,  who  demanded  M.  Do6lors  anfwer  to  his  for- 
mer queftion,  which  was  as  followeth:  Quoth  he,  from 
meward  it  is  a  boy,  and  to  me  ward  it  is  a  girle:  other 
anfwer  they  could  get  none  of  him.  Wherefore  the  Gen- 
tleman was  greatly  offended  againft  him,  calling  him 
Affe,  Dolt,  Patch,  Cockefcombe,  Knaue,  and  all  the 
bafe  names  he  could  deuife.  But  awaie  went  maifter 
Do6lor  as  fkilfuU  in  thofe  cafes  as  a  blind  man  when  he 
throweth  his  ftaffe:  and  durft  not  anfwer  the  Gentle- 
man one  word.  And  the  Gentleman  greatly  repen- 
ted him  that  he  had  been  fo  foolifli  to  fhew  his  wife  in  that 
fort  before  fo  fottifh  a  companion. 

About  foure  dayes  after  the  Gentlewoman  fell  in  la- 
bour, and  was  deliuered  of  a  boy  and  a  girle:  where- 
at the  Gentleman  remembring  the  blunt  anfwer  of 
the  Doflor,  and  finding  it  to  be  true,  was  greatly  aflo- 
niflied,  fuppofing  indeed  hee  had  mightily  wronged  the 
Do6lor:  to  whom  he  went  immediately  crauing  par- 
don for  his  former  follie,  fhewing  himfelfe  verie  forow- 
full  for  his  fault,  and  offered  him  in  recompence  of  a- 
mends  all  the  fauour  he  might  poffibly  doe  him,  gran- 
ting to  him  his  houfe  at  commandement,  and  his  boord 
for  fo  long  time  as  he  would  continue  with  him.  Wher- 
upon  in  figne  of  loue  and  amitie  he  went  and  foiour- 
ned   at   the  Gentlcmans   houfe:   Whereupon  the    Do6tors 



hauntinof    Conicatchers. 


credit  ftill  more  and  more  began  to  increafe,  fo  that  all 
the  countrie  round  about  told  no  fmall  tales  of  the  great 
cunning  of  Doftor  Pinchbacke,  to  whom  they  reforted 
early  and  late. 

It  fortuned  foone  after  there  was  a  Faire  neere  to 
the  Gentlemans  houfe,  where  the  people  diuerfly  tal- 
ked of  the  Do6lors  fkill  and  cunning,  and  that  he  could 
doe  anie  thing,  or  tell  anie  thing  that  was  done  in  anie 
place.  Naie  (quoth  a  plaine  Countriman)  I  will  ven- 
ture twentie  Nobles  that  hee  fhall  not  doe  it.  I  will 
my  felfe  goe  perfonally  to  him,  and  hold  fomething  in 
my  hand,  and  if  hee  tell  me  what  it  is  I  will  lofe  my 
money.  I  take  you,  fayd  one  or  two,  and  the  wager  be- 
ing layd,  awaie  they  went  towards  the  Gentlemans 
houfe:  and  pafling  thorough  a  meadow,  the  man  tooke 
vp  a  Grafhopper  out  of  the  graffe,  and  put  it  into  his 
hand,  fo  clofe  that  no  man  might  perceiue  it.  Then  for- 
ward they  went,  and  met  with  Maifter  Do6lor,  and 
they  defired  him  to  fatiffie  them  of  that  fecret  which 
was  vpon  his  credite,  to  tell  them  what  one  of  the  com- 
panie  held  in  his  hand.  Whereunto  the  Do6lor  was 
loth  to  anfwer,  confidering  he  had  no  fuch  fkill  as  peo- 
ple bruted  abroade:  neuertheleffe  he  caft  in  his  mind, 
how  he  might  excufe  the  matter  by  fome  pretie  Height, 
if  he  fhould  gueffe  amiffe,  and  therfore  concluded  in  this 
ieft,  he  called  to  mind  that  his  owne  name  was  Gra- 
lliopper,  and  if  (quoth  he)  I  take  him  by  the  hand,  I  may 
say  hee  hath  a  grafhopper  in  his  hand,  and  yet  I  may 
iuflly  defend  it  for  a  truth.  Whereupon  the  Do6lor  ta- 
king him  by  the  hand,  faid  he  had  a  Grafhopper  in  his 
hand:  which  beeing  opened  was  found  true.  Whereat 
the  Cuntrimen  wondred,  and  went  their  wayes.  Some 
faid  hee  was  but  a  cofoning  knaue:  others  reported 
what  wonders   hee    could   performe:    Some  faid  he  could 

G  goe 


Greenes    Ghoft 

goe  round  about  the  world  in  a  moment,  and  that  he 
walked  euerie  night  in  the  aire  with  fpirites :  fome 
faid  hee  had  a  familiar:  thus  the  people  gaue  their  cen- 
fure;  fome  liking,  and  others  mifliking  him.  And  in  a 
word,  fo  manie  men,  fo  manie  mindes,  but  the  grea- 
ter part  of  the  countrey  admired  his  deepe  knowledge, 
and  publifhed  his  excellent  learninge,  fo  that  he  became 
famous  amongfl  the  people,  and  the  Gentleman  not  a 
little  proud  of  fo  worthy  a  gueft:  in  fo  much  that  ha- 
uing  one  onely  daughter,  whom  he  loued  moft  entier- 
lie,  and  as  parents  moft  defire  their  children  fhould 
match  themfelues  with  fuch,  by  whom  they  hope  pre- 
ferment fliould  come,  on  a  dale  brake  his  minde  to 
the  Do6lour  in  his  daughters  behalfe,  affuring  him 
hee  fhould  not  onely  finde  her  a  louing  and  dutifull  wife, 
but  would  giue  him  foure  hundred  pounds,  and  make 
him  affurance  of  all  his  land,  which  was  worth  (fayd 
hee)  better  then  two  hundred  markes  a  yeare  after  his 
deceafe,  if  fo  it  would  pleafe  his  worfhip  to  accept  his 
kind  offer,  which  hee  affured  him  proceeded  of  meere 
loue.  The  Do6lour  a  while  coylie  refufed  the  Gen- 
tlemans  offer,  but  beeing  earneftly  entreated  of  the 
Gentleman,  he  anfwered  him  to  this  effect. 

Sir,  for  your  great  friendfhip  hitherto  and  vnex- 
pe6led  kindneffe,  at  this  time  I  cannot  but  confeffe 
my  felfe  much  indebted  to  you:  and  becaufe  you  are 
fo  importunate  with  me  to  marie  your  daughter  (al- 
though I  protefl  it  is  not  for  my  profite)  I  doe  willing- 
ly take  her  to  my  wife:  for  I  haue  (faith  hde)  refufed 
many  faire  and  perfonable  Gentlewomen  in  'mine 
owne  countrey  with  large  dowries:  but  to  make  you 
part  of  amends  for  your  vndeferued  kindneffe,  I  here 
am  content  to  yeeld  to  your  requeft.  The  Gentle- 
man    humbly    thanked     him,     and  ^prolonged    not     the 



haunting-    Conicatchers. 

time  I  warrant  you,  but  with  great  expedition  hafted 
the  manage  daie :  where  with  great  feafting  and  ioy 
with  his  friends  they  paffed  that  day  with  much  pleafure 
and  muficke. 

The  Do6lour  about  a  moneth  after  defired  the  Gen- 
tleman for  his  wiues  portion,  which  the  Gentleman 
willingly  paid  him.  When  two  or  three  dayes  were 
paffed  he  told  the  Gentleman  hee  would  goe  into  his 
owne  countrie  to  fee  his  friends,  and  withall  prepare 
and  make  readie  his  houfe  (which  was  let  forth  to  farme) 
for  himfelfe  to  inhabite,  and  that  he  would  come  againe 
when  all  things  were  readie  and  fetch  his  wife.  The 
Gentleman  was  verie  vnwilling  to  leaue  the  Do- 
6lors  companie ;  but  feeing  the  Do6lor  fo  importu- 
nate, at  laft  yeelded,  and  fo  lent  the  Doftor  and  his  boy 
two  of  his  beft  geldings;  who  as  foone  as  they  were  on 
horfebacke,  neuer  minding  to  returne  againe,  tooke 
their  iourney  into  Deuonfliire,  and  there  fo  long  as  his 
foure  hundred  pounds  lafted  made  merie  with  their 
companions,  till  at  laft  hauing  fpent  all,  beganne  to 
renue  his  olde  trade,  and  after  being  taken  in  compa- 
nie with  fome  fufpe6led  perfons  was  apprehended,  and 
by  the  law  (as  I  heard)  was  condemned  to  bee  hanged 
for  a  murtherer. 

Thus  although  peraduenture  hee  was  not  guiltie 
of  the  murther,  yet  it  was  a  iuft  punifhment  for  his 
villanie  before  pra6lifed. 

The  Gentleman  after  a  quarter  of  a  yeare  was 
paft,  beganne  to  looke  for  the  Do6lors  comming  home 
againe,  but  in  vaine;  fo  hee  paffed  a  tweluemoneth,  ex- 
pe6ling  his  fonne  in  lawes  returne:  at  laft  as  happe 
was  one  of  the  Gentlemans  acquaintance  hauing 
beene  at  his  houfe,  and  feeing  the  Do6lor  there,  brought 
word   home   to   the    Gentleman   that   hee    fawe   the   Do- 

G  2  6lor 


Greenes     Ghofl 

6lor   for   certaine    executed    at    Exceter    in    Deuonfhire, 
for  a  muder.     In   what    a  melancholy  humour   the   Gen- 
tleman was  in,  and  what  griefe  and  forrowe  the  young 
Gentlewoman  tooke  to  heart  at  thefe  heauie  tidings, 
I   refer  it  to  the  Reader,   and  none  but  thofe 
that  haue  tafled  of  thofe  griefes 
doe  fufificientiy 












T  was  only  after  the  Works  of  Samuel 
Rowlands  had  been  completed  that 
it  became  known  that  a  tra6l  bearing 
his  initials  was  reprinted  by  Mr. 
Henry  Huth  in  "  Fugitive  Poetical 
Tracfts"  {Second  Series,  1875),  and  there  Mr.  W. 
Carew  Hazlitt,  who  edited  them,  fuggefted  Rowlands' 
authorfhip  of  "Aue  Csefar."  The  late  Mr.  J.  Payne 
Collier,  in  "Bibliographical  Notes"  ftill  in  manufcript, 
after  unhefitatingly  affigning  its  authorfhip  to  Row- 
lands, goes  on  to  fay:  "The  writer's  well-known 
initials  are  at  the  end  of  this  Epitaph  on  the  death 
of  her  most  Royall  Maiejlie,  our  late  Queeite  which 
follows  his  Aue  Ccsfar,  and  both  are  full  of  loyalty 
on  the  one  hand  and  lamentation  on  the  other." 

The  queflion  having  been  lately  referred  to  Mr. 
Edmund  Goffe,  his  communication  will  be  read  with 
intereft :  "I  am  convinced  that  Aue  Ccsfar  is  a 
pamphlet  of  Rowlands  :  I  could  not  be  more  fure 
of  it  if  his  name  was  affixed  to  the  title  page.  It 
bears  all  the  peculiarity  of  his  tone  and  verfifica- 
tion ;    the   clear   and   even   ftyle,    the   fix-line   ftanza 

Prefatory  Note. 

that  he  fo  fondly  afFe6led,  the  trite  plain  morality, 
all  are  his  or  nobody's.  Then  notice  that  W.  F. 
and  G.  L.  are  W.  Ferbrand  and  George  Loftes, 
Rowlands'  publifhers,  who  brought  out  Looke  to  it: 
For  He  Stabbe  ye,  in  1 604.  There  are  various  little 
fimilarities  between  this  and  other  pamphlets  of  Row- 
lands. Note,  for  inftance,  the  ftanza  beginning 
*  Mofl  facred  Tyme,'  which  was  the  germ  of  the 
Terrible  Battell  of  1606.  To  my  mind,  the  author- 
fhip  of  Rowlands  may  be  afferted  without  a  particle 
of  hefitation." 

From  this  weight  of  opinion  in  favour  of  Rowlands' 
authorfhip,  it  has  been  decided  to  iffue  "  Aue  Ca^far  " 
as  a  part  of  the  Hunterian  Club  edition  of  his  Works. 
This  reprint  is,  as  near  as  may  be,  a  typographical 
facfimile  of  the  original,  of  which  only  one  copy  is 
known  to  be  in  exiftence,  preferved  in  the  Bodleian 
Library,  Oxford.  It  was  probably  looked  upon,  when 
publifhed,  as  of  too  ephemeral  a  character  to  merit 
being  entered  in  the  "Stationers'  Regiflers,"  as  no 
trace  of  it  is  to  be  found  there. 

Glasgow,  March,  1S86. 

Aue  Csefar. 

God  faue  the  King. 

The  ioyfull  Ecchoes  of  loyall  Englifh  hartes, 

entertayning  his  Maiefties  late 

ariuall  in  England. 

With  an  Epitaph  vpon  the  death  of  her 
Maieftie  our  late  Oueene. 

Our  iveeping  eyes  do  bath  Elizaes   Tombe, 

Our  louing  hartes  yeelde  lames  Jier  Princely  roome. 


Printed  for  W.  F.  and  G.  L.  and  are  to  be  fold 
in  Popes-hed-All)-  neare  the  Exchange. 


Aue  Caefar. 

TT'Ven  as  the  Sunne  from  foorth  a  watry  clowd, 

That  late  welny  had  drownd  the  world  with  raine: 
Breakes  with  his  briofhtnes  throuQfh  that  fable  flirowd 
Drying  the  moyfture  from  earth's  face  againe, 
Reuiuing  that  by  his  kind  Influence, 
Which  had  decay'd  by  Waters  violence, 

So  Vertues  Sunne,  great  Monarch  of  thefe  Ifles, 
Thy  fplendant  rayes  haue  wrought  the  like  effe6l; 
Our  teares  thou  haft  conuerted  into  fmiles, 
To  greater  loyes  then  ere  we  could  expecl;: 
The  wit  of  man,  mans  weake  vnable  wit. 
Admires  the  power  of  Heauen  in  working  it. 

That  hand  which  came  vnto  vs  with  a  rod, 

And  tooke  away  our  peace-preferuing  Queene: 

That  Scepter-giuer,  Crowne-difpofmg  God: 

In  doubt,  and  dread,  his  mercie  plac'd  betweene: 

And  where  our  fmnes  for  vengaunce,  vengaunce  cri'd 

Compaffion  lay'd  the  fword  of  Wrath  afide. 

A  ii.  As 


As  E/aw  wifh'd  for  Ifaacks  dying  day, 
And  fayd,  the  dayes  of  forrowing  are  at  hand, 
My  Father  dead,  I  will  my  Brother  flay: 
So  did  the  bloody  Efawes  of  this  land, 
Whofe  plots  to  more  then  wiflies  did  extende, 
For  many  wayes  they  did  attempt  her  ende. 

But  neuer  could  the  Deui'll  by  his  perfwafion, 

Effed;  his  purpofe  to  her  ouerthrow : 

Not  Poyfon,  Dagger,  Piftoll,  nor  inuafion. 

Could  make  dayes  fhort,  where  heauen  would  yeeres 

He  that  of  life  doth  number  euery  hower,  (beftow. 

Will  put  lifes  lymits  in  no  humane  power. 

Death  came  vnto  her  hauing  Gods  Commisfion, 
That  file  to  heauen  her  progreffe  muft  commence : 
For  to  this  world  fhe  came  vpon  condition, 
To  leaue  the  fame  when  God  did  call  from  hence : 
Her  Kingdome  heere,  was  varying  by  fuccesfion. 
But  that's  a  Kingdome  endleffe  in  poffeffion. 



It  were  ingratefull  to  forget  the  peace, 

The  plentie,  and  the  great  profperitie: 

The  manifold  great  blesfings  and  encreafe, 

In  foure  and  fourtie  yeeres  felicitie, 

Vnder  the  Scepter  of  our  gratious  Princeffe, 

Our  peace-preferuing,  world  admired  Empreffe. 

If  Z^«?^/^  mourned  for  the  death  of  Saul, 

And  did  the  people  therevnto  prepare? 

Haue  not  we  caufe  to  become  mourners  all 

For  her,  with  whom  King  Satil  wsls  no  compare; 

Although  fome  vertues  in  him  might  be  found, 

They  were  fmall  Starres;  her  Sun-fhine  did  abound. 

In  Scarlet  he  did  Ifraels  Daughters  cloth, 
And  ornaments  of  Gold  vnto  them  gaue : 
But  fhee  adorned  foule  and  body  both, 
With  richeft  clothing  that  a  Realme  can  haue. 
There  is  a  Garment  hath  a  Wedding  name, 
Moft  happy  gueft  that  can  put  on  the  fame. 

A  iii. 


A  VE    C^SAR. 

That  glorious  habit  hath  her  foule  put  on, 

And  in  the  Court  of  Heu'n  is  refident: 

Where  all  fing  prayfe  to  him  fits  on  the  throne, 

The  King  of  Kings,  and  God  omnipotent 

There  reft  faire  Soule;  thy  Body  heere  abide, 

Thy  fame  flie  through  the  world  both  farre  and  wide. 

An  Epitaph  on  the 

death  of  her  moft  Royall 

Maiejlic,  o?ir  late  Qiieene. 

S  Acred  Celejliall  Deities  Diuine, 
MortalVs  that  do  proceed  of  Jinmane  line. 
All yo7L  that  know  what  griefes  and forroives  bee, 
Come  and  teare-ivajli  an  Empreffe  Toinbe  zuith  mee. 
Melpomene  tJioji  tragike  dolefiill  Mufe, 
Put  on  fonic  blackc,  which  thoit  did  ft  neiier  I'fe, 
And  in  the  faddejl  Sable  can  be  had; 
Let  all  thy  Sijiers  in  the  like  be  clad: 
TJieiv  liquid  Pearles  in  plentie  %oe  miijl  boi'voiv, 
Bccaufe  it  is  no  common  vfiall forroiv. 



The  Phenix  of  the  World  to  Heaueu  is  floivne, 
And  of  Jier  AfJies  there  remeynetJi  none: 
The  PelHcan  that  did  Jier  yoitng-ones  good, 
Hath  yeelded  all  her  vitall  flreanies  of  blood. 
Cynthia  that  gaue  the  World  a  glorions  fJiine, 
Shall  neuer  more  be  feene  with  mortall  eyen: 
The  fayrefi  Rofe,  the  fivectefl  Princely  Floiuer, 
Lyes  ivitJired  7iozu  by  Death's  coold  nipping  power. 
You  fpirits  of  the  highefl  Element^ 
Yon  Jieanenly  fparkes  ofivit,  with  one  confent 
Conioyne,  and  front  the  treafurie  of  Artes, 
Giue  honour  to  the  Oueene  of  good-dcfartes  : 
The  reiierent  Lady,  Nurfe  of  all  our  Land, 
That  ftvafd  a  Sword  like  ludeth's,  in  her  hand. 
The  Debora  that  iudged  Ifraell: 
Whofe  blefsed  actions  God  did profper  luell: 
She  that  did  neuer  pnrpofe  lurong  to  any. 
Though  iniiiries  to  her,  were  done  by  many. 
She  that  no  longer  rule  on  earth  did  crane. 
Then  befl,  and  mofl  defired,  fite  might  haue. 
She  that  with  Mercyes  winges  adorn' d  her  Throne, 
And  yet  zoith  luftice  ballance  fate  thereon. 
Report  Jier  Prayfe  to  all  haue  eares  to  heare  it, 

A  iiij. 



Sound  out  her  Fa?ne  as  farre  as  Fame  can  bcare  it. 

Let  from  the  Earth,  her  fame  to  Heauettfoiinde, 

Let  from  the  Heauen,  Jier  fame  to  Earth  rebounde: 

Let  through  the  Ocean  ivaiies  pronounce  the  fame, 

And  whirling  zuindes  be  agent es  of  Jicr  Fame: 

Let  Heauen,  Aire,  the  Ocean,  and  the  EartJi, 

With  Ecchoes  found  blefsed  Elizabeth. 

Yea  let  the  very  Stones  zvhere  fJice  Jhall  lie, 

Tell  ages  folloiving,  this  of  ours  gone  by: 

Within  071  r  marble  armes  we  do  end  of- 

The  virgin  Oueene,  the  WJiite  and  Red-croivn'd  Rofe, 

TJmt  ruVd  this  Real  me  fo  happy,  fourtie  foivre. 

As  neuer  Prince  did  raigne  the  like  before. 

From  Men,  with  Sain6les  fliee  lines  in  high  cfleeme. 

Seated  in  bliffe,  which  befl  doth  her  e§leeme. 

S.  R. 



OTay  Sorrowes  there  about  Elizaes  Tombe, 

From  whence,  with  hopefull  hartes  w^e  now  retire: 
Let  Griefe  yeeld  place,  and  giue  our  loyes  fome  rome 
To  entertaine  the  King  of  our  defire, 
I  AMES  firft  of  England,  and  of  Scotland  fixt, 
He  hath  our  mourninges  with  all  comforts  mixt. 

Our  honorable  true  Nobilitie, 

Moft  high  renowmed  Worthies  of  the  Land, 

Haue  fhew'd  their  loyall  true  fidelitie, 

Conioyn'd  by  God,  afwell  in  hart  as  hand  : 

Thefe  are  carefull  proppes  and  pillers  of  our  Nation. 

Haue  giuen  Ccrfar  right,  by  Proclamation. 

And  who  is  he  that  doth  not  giue  confent. 
With  hart-pronounced  found,  Godfaue  the  King: 
Vnleffe  it  be  fome  Villian  malecontent, 
That  mifchiefe  to  his  Country  feekes  to  bring : 
He  that  repineth  at  the  Lordes  Annoynted, 
Like  to  a  Traytor  let  him  be  disioynted. 

B.  Neuer 

A  VE    C^SAR. 

Neuer  did  King  fet  foote  on  EngliJJi  ground, 
With  more  applaw'd  then  our  renowmed  lames: 
For  as  great  ioyes  within  our  hartes  abound, 
As  euer  were  contay'd  in  all  his  Realmes : 
Our  loues  to  him  the  eyes  of  heau'n  doth  fee, 
Sound,  as  the  fubie6les  fhould  to  Soueraigne  bee. 

Not  great  King  Henrie,  fecond  of  that  name, 
When  with  his  royall  Nauie  he  did  fayle. 
The  rude  and  barb'rous  Iri/limcn  to  tame, 
Where  moft  vidlorioufly  he  did  preuayle, 
Subduing  them  vnder  his  Scepters  length, 
By  honourable  valour,  Martiall  ftrength. 

Nor  his  fonne  Richard,  Lyou-hart^d  King, 

That  deedes  of  Armes  in  other  landes  purfew'd 

Could  caufe  more  ioy  from  peoples  hartes  to  fpring. 

When  they  return'd  from  Countries  they  fubdew'd  : 

In  entertayning  them  to  Englands  fliore. 

Where  tonges  did  fliew  what  harts  the  fubieCrts  bore. 



Nor  yet  fift  Henry  s  comming  out  of  Frauiice, 
From  thofe  high  deedes  that  there  he  vndertooke  : 
Nor's  Father,  whom  defartes  did  fo  aduaunce, 
The  peoples  deare  beloued  Bjille^ibrooke, 
Could  haue  more  loue  ready  prepard  to  meete  them, 
Or  more  affedlion,  presfmg  foorth  to  greete  them. 

Their  welcomes  were  from  warres  they  had  in  hand, 
Which  loffe  of  blood,  and  valour  caufd  to  ceafe  : 
Thy  welcomes  are  from  out  a  quiet  Land, 
Inlarging  vs  a  wondrous  league  of  peace. 
O  welcome  Prince  of  Peace  and  quietneffe  : 
The  God  of  Peace  thee  and  thine  Iffue  bleffe. 

Moft  facred  Tyme,  that  with  the  World  began, 
And  art  ordayn'd  Gods  fpeciall  Inflrument, 
To  deale  in  all  affayres  concerning  Man, 
Numb'ring  each  minute  that  on  earth  is  fpent : 
Thou  that  mak'ft  expedition  with  the  winde, 
To  fly,  and  run,  with  Eagle,  and  with  Hinde. 

B  ii. 


A  VE   C^SAR. 

Lay  downe  thy  fickle  thou  haft  in  thy  hand, 
Becaufe  thou  muft  performe  a  nimble  place  : 
Turne  quicke  about  thine  Hower-glaffe  of  fand, 
Run  for  thy  life  to  entertaine  his  Grace : 
Make  fpeed  good  Time  in  this,  to  do  vs  pleafure, 
For  all  the  Realme  doth  waite  vpon  thy  leafure. 

Linger  not  by  the  way,  to  harken  newes. 
But  let  thy  charge  be  rightly  vnderftood  : 
Flying  reportes,  let  fooles  and  Ideots  vfe. 
Tale-carriers  thou  doefl  know  were  neuer  good : 
If  any  fuch  thou  chaunce  to  ouer-take, 
A  bafe  account  of  them  thou  art  to  make. 

I  know  thou  know'ft  how  to  falute  our  Prince. 

That  haft  bin  guide  of  Kinges  into  their  Thrones 

That  office  thou  haft  well  performd  long  fmce, 

Vnto  all  Gods  eledled  holy-ones  : 

The  chifeft  thing  we  haue  in  expe6lation, 

Ls,  that  thou  hie  him  to  his  Coronation. 



Our  Nobles  all,  to  their  immortall  fame, 
(Deferuing  Peeres,  of  Honours  beft  defartes) 
Are  duetifull  prepared  for  the  fame, 
With  firme  confent  of  all  true  Englifh  hartes, 
Who  from  their  foules  vnfaignedly  do  pray. 
That  euen  this  prefent,  were  crownation  day. 

The  Cittie  with  the  loyall  Magiftrate, 

The  Maior,  the  Shriefes,  the  Aldermen,  the  reft, 

Haue  faythfull  welcomes  to  him  confecrate. 

And  all  endeuour :  loue  may  be  expre'ft. 

Yet  can  no  triumph  nor  externall  fhow, 

Defcribe  aright  the  inward  loue  they  owe. 

For  often  loue  abounding  in  the  minde. 

From  center  of  the  hart,  which  doth  containe  it. 

Cannot  fo  abfolute  a  paffage  finde. 

As  in  an  outward  fulneffe  may  explane  it: 

Loues  treafurie  hath  very  feldome  bin 

As  foone  layde  out,  as  it  is  gath'red  in. 

B  iii.  Defcend 

A  VE    C^SAR. 

Defcend  you  Mufes  from  Parnafsus  hill ; 

Bring  Art  in  librall  handes,  and  now  beftow-it: 

Let  euery  one  prefent  a  flowing  Quill, 

In  honour  of  our  famous  Kingly  Poet: 

And  as  the  chearefull  Larke  doth  mounting  fmg, 

So  eleuate  the  honour  of  the  King. 

lone  adde  a  length  of  yeeres  vnto  his  dayes, 

That  long  in  peace,  by  vs  he  be  enioy'd. 

Apollo  tune  thy  Muficke  to  his  prayfe, 

To  better  vfe  it  cannot  be  imployd. 

Sound  Triton  through  the  Seas  vafl  kingdame,  found 

That  Englands  King  is  comming  to  be  Croun'd. 

Vcr,  flrow  the  Ground  with  thy  delightfull  greene, 
For  in  thy  feafon  doth  our  Monarch  come: 
Be  all  the  Fieldes  in  Sommers  liuerie  feene: 
Attire  the  Trees,  and  let  the  Plants  haue  fome : 
Be  bountifull  and  forward  gentle  Spring, 
Thou  canft  not  welcome  a  more  worthy  King. 




Aboue  all  Trees,  be  kindeft  to  the  Rofe, 
For  tis  a  Flower  of  a  princely  price: 
There  is  a  White  and  Red  togither  growes, 
I  thinke  the  Plant  came  (firfl)  from  Paradice: 
Let  it  be  watred  with  fome  heau'nly  fliower, 
For  (on  my  life)  it  beares  a  bleffed  flower. 

Bleft  chiefly  in  the  graft  Earle  Richmond  made, 
For  till  his  time,  thofe  Rofes  were  at  ftrife, 
Hee  in  a  happie  hower  all  quarrels  ftay'd, 
Takeing  fourth  Edwards  daughter  to  his  wife: 
So  did  the  Houfes  both  in  one  vnite, 
Mixing  the  kingly  Red,  with  princely  White. 

A  glorious  Arbour  from  this  roote  hath  fprong, 
Of  fweeteft  Rofes,  crown'd  with  Diadames : 
From  Prince  to  Prince,  the  branch  hath  run  along, 
And  now  the  noble  Flower  is  cald  King  lames. 
Lord  we  intreat  thee  for  our  Countries  good, 
Graunt  that  his  ftocke  may  neuer  want  a  bud. 

B  iiii.  Let 



Let  Angels  pitch  their  Tentes  about  his  Throne/ 
Be  thou  his  ftrength,  his  truft,  his  God,  his  guide: 
Graunt  that  his  dayes  may  be  Hke  Salomon, 
A  mirrour  vnto  all  the  world  befide, 
That  thofc  which  heare  his  fame  farre  of  to  ring 
Like  Sabaes  Oueene,  may  all  admire  our  King. 



Looke  to  it : 

He  Stabbe  ye, 

Imprinted  at  London  by  E.  Allde 
for  W.  Ferbt'and,  and  George  Loftcs, 
and  are  to  be  foldc  in  Popes- 
head  Allie.     1604. 

T//ere  is  a  Humour  vf'd  of  late, 
By  eue'ry  Rafcall  fwagg'ring  mate, 
To  glue  the  Stabbe:  He  Stabbe  (fayes  hee) 
Him  that  dares  take  the  wall  of  me. 
If  you  to  pledge  a  health  denie, 
Out  comes  his  Poniard;  there  you  lie. 
If  his  Tabacco  you  difpraife, 
He  fweares,  a  Stabbe  shal  end  your  daies. 
If  you  demaund  the  Debt  he  owes, 
Into  your  guts  his  Dagger  goes. 
Death  feeing  this,  doth  take  his  Dart, 
and  he  performes  the  Stabbing  part. 
he  fpareth  none,  be  who  it  will : 
his  lifence  is  the  World  to  kill. 

A  2. 


Deaths  great  and 

gxHcrall  Challenge 

Do  defie  the  World  and  all  iJicrcin, 

My  challenge  at  the  Scepter  doth  begin  : 

Do'ivne  to  the  Plough  Swainc,  come  who  dare  in  tlaa. 

Set  foot e  to  mine,  and  looke  me  in  the  face. 
MyJIeJIi  and  fat,  doth  make  no  InirlieJJioiv, 
A  razv-hone  fellow,  all  the  World  doth  hioiv. 
To  dcale  atfundry  Weapons,  J  refi/fe. 
As  Fencas  {when  they  play  their  prizes)  vfc: 
Of  Swojd  and  Dagger  I haue  little  skill: 
Rapier  I  ncncr  wore,  nor  neuer  7vill. 
My  fight  is  very  bad  to  haue  about. 
For  He  affure  you  both  mine  Eyes  be  out. 
But  at  the  Irifli  Dart  y  onely  deale: 
Whofc  Hart  I  hit,  J  nere  kneio  Surgeon  heale. 
My  Horfc  is  pale,  wellpac'd;  I  neucr  shoo-him, 
Saindl  Georges  Gelding  was  a  lade  vnto-him, 
I  would  ride  often,  when  I  go  onfoote, 
But  there's  no  Shoo-maker  can  fit  me'  a  Boote. 

Deaths  Prologue  to 

his  Tragicall  Stabbc. 

n^O  no  degree  crfacnitie,  I  do  intcnde  offence; 

A I  tJiofe  I  threaten  heere  tojlah,  ^  fend  the  zvr etches  hence 
Arefuch^  as  tremble  ic'hen  they  heare,  whatfatall  Stab  I giue, 
For  though  I  kill  both  good  and  bad,  all  creatures  that  do  Hue., 
The  good  are  ncucr  terrified  with  any  power  I  hauc: 
I  open  the  thejn  Doore  of  life,  the  chief  eft  thifig  they  crane. 
But  to  the  luicked  graceleffe  fort,  inofi feajfull  I  appeare, 
Becaife  Ifetide  them  to  a  place,  doth  pafje  all  torments  heere. 
To  the  the  7iame  of  Death  feems  Death,  Oh  lis  a  fearful  found 
For  of  the  hope  of  life  to  come,  they  want  affured  ground, 
From  this  bad  World  vnto  a  worfc,  I  fend  them  forth  to  dwell 
I  am  the  Taylor,  leading  them  vnto  the  vault  of  Hell. 
Good  newes  vnto  the  good  J^  bring:  but  to  the  wicked,  euill: 
Becaufe  I  fend  the  one  to  God,  the  other  to  the  DeuilL 
Such  as  fear c  God,  they  fear e  not  me,  but  bid  me  do  my  worfi 
\f  any  finde  hijufelfe  agreeiid,  ileflabbc  that  fellow  firfl. 


Tyrant  Kinges. 


Ou  high  Imperious  crownc-contcnding  Kings, 
Who  for  Earth's  gloiy  (not  Religions  good) 
Turne  humane  bodies  into  bloudy  fprings, 
And  die  the  ground  with  flaught'rcd  chriftians  blood 
That  for  the  gayning  of  an  earthly  Crowne, 
Will  toffe  a  fpatious  Kingdome  vpfidc  downe. 

You  that  deuorce  the  hufbands  from  their  wiues, 
By  fatall  warre,  the  endleffc  foe  to  peace : 
you  that  denye  poore  new-borne  Babes  their  liues, 
and  will  not  graunt  fweet  life  an  hov/ers  leafe:^ 
That  care  not  how,  or  by  what  meanes  you  raigne. 
So  you  the  golden  Crowne  and  Scepter  gaine. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 


Wicked  Magiftrates. 

"jVr  Obles  and  Judges,  mightie  men  on  Earth, 
That  careleffe  caft  the  fword  of  luftice  by : 
And  let  your  pleafures  furfeit  in  their  myrth, 
Not  lending  poore  mens  Plaints,  eare,  hand,  nor  eye ; 
Suff'ring  the  luft  vuiuftly  be  oppreft, 
When  the  oppreffor  Hues  at  eafe  and  reft. 

Forgetting  God,  whom  you  fhould  reprefent, 
In  all  the  aftions  of  your  publique  place: 
Yeelding  the  world  your  hartes,  with  full  confent, 
To  gather  Mainvion,  hoording  wealth  apace. 
You  that  nere  thinke  your  felues  muft  once  appeere 
To  giue  account  how  you  haue  Judged  heere: 

lie  Stabbe  yce. 


Curious  Diuines. 

T^/ww^j,  that  are  together  by  the  cares, 

Puft  vp,  high-minded,  feedes-men  of  diffention, 
Striuing  vntill  CJiriJles  feame-leffe  garments  teares, 
Making  the  Scriptures  follow  your  inuention, 
Negle6ling  that,  whereon  the  foule  fliould  feede, 
Imployde  in  that,  whereof  foules  hauc  no  neede. 

Curious  in  thinges  you  neede  not  ftir  about, 
Such  as  concerne  not  matter  of  faluation : 
Giuing  offence  to  them  that  are  without: 
Vpon  whofe  weaknes  you  fhould  haue  compasfion, 
Caufmg  the  good  to  grieue,  the  bad  reioyce ; 
Yet  you  with  MartJia,  make  the  worfer  choyce. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 



Couetous  Lawyers. 

T    Azi'ja's  that  wreft  the  Law  to  your  affection, 
■^To  fauour,  or  disfauour,  as  you  pleafe : 
And  keepe  your  Clyants  purfes  in  fubieclion, 
Till  fome  doe  get  Pei7'ce penny leffc  difeafe: 
Not  caring  how  their  caufe  do  ftand  or  fall. 
So  you  your  felues  get  golde  to  rife  withall. 

That  whylc  you  deale  with  Angels,  feruc  the  Deuill, 
Becaufe  you  banifh  Confcience  out  of  towne, 
Couetoufneffe,  you  knowe's  a  damned  euill ; 
And  yet  you  wrap  it  with  you  in  your  Gowne. 
You  that  with  if's  with  and 's,  demurrs,  delayes, 
Bring  Caufes  in  confumptions  and  decayes. 

lie  Stabbe  yec. 



|g       Vp-ftart  Courtier.       ^^ 

^  ^S**/^  13(^^S  ^^^Vl^r^  W^fVn  f??!  ^"'^'^'^^tFv^  S^^^ 

r^Ourticr,  whofe  hart  with  pride,  fo  mighty  growes, 

thou  wilt  not  to  thy  Father  mooue  thy  Hat, 
becaufe  he  weares  a  paire  of  ruffet  Hofe, 
Thy  Vekiet  Breeches  looke  awry  at  that : 
Nay,  ere  he  fliaU  difgrace  thee,  thou  wilt  rather 
Sweare  by  the  Lord,  that  he  is  not  thy  Father. 

You  that  deny  the  ftocke  from  whence  you  came, 
thrufting  your  felfe  into  fome  Gentle  kin, 
you  that  will  giue  your  felfe  an  other  name. 
Which  mufl  not  from  an  old  Thatcht-houfe  begin, 
you  that  will  haue  an  Armes  fliall  grace  you  too, 
Though  your  poore  Father  cobled  many  a  Shoo. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 

B  2 


VVealthye  Cittizens. 

YOu  Cittizens  that  arc  of  Diiics  wealth, 
His  coftly  cloathing,  and  his  dainty  fare, 
Regarding  nothing  but  felfe-eafe  and  health : 
How  euer  Lazarus  lyes  poore  and  bare : 
your  Dogges  are  not  fo  kinde  to  licke  their  fores, 
But  rather  ferue  to  bite  them  from  your  dores. 

You  that  do  make  j'our  Tables  Poulters  ftalles, 
Great  prouocation  to  the  fmfull  flefli : 
And  though  the  famifli'd,  hunger-ftarued  calles 
For  lefus  fake,  with  Crummes  our  wantes  refrefli : 
Your  Difhes  haue  the  food  for  which  they  cry: 
You  play  with  that,  for  which  they  pine  and  die. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 



Greedy  Vfurer. 

THou  Fur-gown'd  flauc,  exceeding  rich  and  olde, 
Ready  to  be  deuowred  of  the  Graue : 
Thou  that  wilt  fell  a  foule,  to  purchafe  Gold, 
And  gold,  ftill  gold,  nothing  but  golde  doft  craue : 
Thou  moft  extreame  hard-harted  cruell  wretch, 
Whome  Hell  gapes  for;  the  Deuill  comes  to  fetch. 

Thou  that  wilt  not  forbeare  an  howers  time, 

But  wilt  a  forfayture  feueerely  take : 

Thou  that  by  crueltie  to  wealth  dofl  clyme, 

And  threatneft  Dice  of  poore  mens  bones  to  make, 

Hauing  that  ruftie  gold  vpon  thy  hand. 

For  which,  there's  thoufandes  perifli  in  the  land. 

He  ftabbe  yee. 




Curfed  Swearers. 

THou  that  dofl  take  Gods  holy  name  in  vaine, 
Which  is  of  wondrous  feare  and  reuerence, 
Thou  that  reprou'd,  v/ilt  vtter  Oathcs  againe, 
To  grieue  him,  that  admonifh'd  thy  offence. 
Thou  that  wilt  fay,  He  that's  agreeu'd  with  fwearing, 
May  ftop  his  eares  or  get  him  out  of  hearing. 

Thou  that  wilt  fwcare  a  truth,  not  to  be  fo, 

And  fweare  that  which  is  falfe,  to  be  mofl  trew, 

Thou  that  wilt  vow  moft  abfolutc  to  know, 

That  which  thy  confcience  knowcs  thou  neuer  knew. 

Thou  that  wilt  fweare,  thou  car'cft  not  what  thou 

becaufe  the  deuil  and  thy  tongue  are  neareft.      (fweareft 

He  ftabbe  yee. 



Phifitions  of  the 

Quackfalucrs  crew. 

T^06lor,  or  rather  Dunce,  that  purge  with  Pill, 

Vntill  that  filuer  haue  a  cleane  Purgation : 
You  Artleffe  Buffard,  that  abufe  the  skill, 
Of  Learned  men,  deferuing  reputation. 
You  that  had  neuer  Do6lorfliip  in  Schooles, 
But  got  your  grace  from  women  or  from  Fooles. 

You  bafe  Quackfaluer  in  a  Common  wealth, 

That  pra6lize  Phificke  out  of  olde  Aviues  tales, 

you  that  can  make  them  ficke  which  haue  their  health 

And  learne  by  Almanackes,  to  pare  your  Nayles. 

You  that  can  tell  what  figne  is  beft  affe6led 

To  picke  ones  Teeth,  or  haue  his  Beard  corrected. 

lie  Stabbe  yee. 




GAllant  that  takes  the  Altitudes  on  hie, 
and  hke  a  Fawk'ners  Hawke  do  hood  your  wife, 
Giuing  thofe  golden  Angels  leaue  to  flye, 
your  Father  kept  clofe  prifoners  all  his  life: 
you  that  are  Sonne  to  him  that  held  the  Plow, 
Transform'd  by  Gold,  into  a  Gentle  now. 

You  that  are  Fafliions  fpie,  and  Humors  Ape, 
A  filken  Affe,  a  very  Veluet  Clowne : 
A  perfe<5l  Gull,  that  lets  no  Fafliions  fcape, 
To  fwagger  it  in  LondoUy  vp  and  downe. 
you  that  within  a  fuite  of  Cyuit  dwell, 
And  Garlike  was  your  Fathers  onely  fmell. 

He  Stabbe  yec. 





V/'Ou  Captine  moufe-trap,  growne  a  defperat  ftabber 

You  that  will  put  your  Poniard  in  mens  guts : 
You  that  lall  Voyage,  were  no  more  but  fvvabber, 
Yet  you  cracke  Blades  as  men  cracke  Hafel-nuts, 
You  that  try  all  your  manhood  with  a  Puncke, 
And  fight  moffc  brauely  when  you  are  moft  drunke: 

You  that  protefl  the  Feather  in  your  Hat, 
came  from  a  Counteffe  Fanne  by  way  of  fauour: 
Your  Rapier,  why  the  great  Turke  gaue  you  that 
For  mightie  monft'rous  MarJJial-like  behauiour. 
You  that  weare  Scarfs  and  Gart' rings  for  your  hofe, 
Made  all  of  Ancients,  taken  from  your  foes. 

He  Stab  yee. 



DilTembling  Souldier 


YOu  Sirha,  that  vfurpe  a  Souldicrs  name, 
Vaunting  your  felfe  a  Thunder-bolt  of  Warres, 
Vowing  that  euery  ioynt  }'ou  hauc  is  lame, 
By  piercing  Bullets,  bloudy  woundes,  and  fcarres : 
You  that  fome  hundred  men  at  once  withftood, 
And  fought  mofh  brauely  to  the  knees  in  blood. 

You  that  haue  flaine  more  men  by  breake  of  day, 
Then  could  haue  graues  digg'd  for  them  in  a  weeke. 
You  that  haue  made  your  foes  to  run  away, 
Starke  naked,  when  their  breeches  were  to  feeke: 
You  that  haue  compaffd  all  the  earth's  globe  round, 
Yet  neuer  trod  a  ftep  from  EugUfli  ground. 

lie  Stab  yee. 



Vnkinde  Parents. 

PArentes,  which  fo  \-nnaturall  are  growne, 
That  for  your  Children  you  will  not  prouide 
Becomming  fo  obdurate  to  your  owne, 
With  hardned  heartes  you  can  them  not  abide, 
But  to  a  ftranger  will  extend  more  good, 
then  to  the  ofspring  of  your  blood. 

You  that  in  rage  and  fur}',  moft  vnkinde, 
Will  vtter  Curfes  where  you  ought  to  bleffe : 
For  which  God  often  yeeldeth  to  your  minde, 
and  fayes  Amen,  to  wiflied  ill  fucceffe. 
You  that  from  all  humanitie  haue  ceaft, 
Man-like  in  fliape,  in  manners  but  a  beaft. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 





CHildren  that  moft  vndutifull  doc  Hue, 
Forgetting  what  the  Law  of  God  commaundes ; 
You  that  no  reuerence  to  your  parents  glue, 
But  follow  that  which  with  your  fancic  flands, 
That  onely  like  the  Prodigall,  will  fpend, 
But  come  not  home  (as  he  did)  to  amend. 

You  that  propound  your  felues  vnthriftle  wayes, 
And  will  not  vnto  found  aduife  confent : 
you  that  doe  runne  like  Follies  witles  flrayes, 
Vntill  fome  prifon  teach  you  to  repent : 
you  that  liue  as  you  pleafe,  do  what  you  lift, 
and  admonition  vtterly  refift. 

He  Stabbe  yce. 



YOu  filthy  flaues,  whom  I  do  often  fee, 
fleeping  In  Tauerns  on  the  benches  drunke ; 
That  will  haue  full  carowfes  come  to  thee, 
Till  with  the  liquors  lading  thou  art  funke. 
Then  fill  vs  Boy  one  quart  of  Charnico, 
To  drinke  a  health  to  Dicke  before  we  goe. 

You  that  will  drinke  Reynaldo  vnto  death : 
The  Dane,  that  would  carowfe  out  of  his  Boote, 
and  quaffe  an  hundred  Flemings  out  of  breath, 
Laying  as  many  French-men  vnder  foote : 
you  that  no  other  courfe  obferue  and  keepe, 
But  either  drinking,  drunke,  or  els  a  fleepe. 

He  Stabbe  you, 
C  3  Permrers 

"\  Zlllaiuc,  that  runn'ft  the  ready  way  to  Hell, 

and  ncuer  art  at  home,  till  thou  com'ft  there, 
Bafe  flaue,  that  for  bafe  Bribes  thy  foule  Avilt  fell, 
And  any  thing  wilt  vndertake  to  fwcare. 
Thou  careft  not  for  God,  nor  mans  law  fearcs, 
Vntill  the  Pillorie  bite  off  both  thine  cares. 

Thou  that  doft  make  thy  tongue  a  Serpents  fting, 
To  wound  and  hurt  the  Innocent  withall : 
Thou  that  confufion  to  thy  fclfe  doft  bring, 
And  wilful!  wilt  into  perdition  fall; 
Thou  that  art  knowne  amongfh  the  befi:  and  moft, 
and  Officer  of  Hell,  Knight  of  the  Poft. 

He  Stabbe  yon. 


God-leffe  Athifts 

npHou  damned  AtJiiJl,  thou  incarnate  Deuill, 

That  doeft  deny  his  power  which  did  create  thee: 
a  Villaine  apt  for  euery  kinde  of  euill, 
And  all  the  eyes  in  heauen  and  earth  do  hate  tliee. 
That  mak'ft  account  when  thou  fiialt  breathleffe  he, 
Thy  foule  and  bodie  hke  a  beaft  do  die. 

That  Vharoa  hke  dar'ft  aske  what  fellow's  God? 
Efteeming  facred  Scriptures,  to  be  vaine : 
And  that  the  dead  in  earth  fhall  make  abode, 
and  neuer  rife  from  out  their  graues  againe : 
That  fay'ft;  eate,  drinke,  be  merrie,  take  delight: 
Swagger  out  day,  and  Reuell  all  the  night. 

He  Stabbc  thee. 



Miferable  Marchant 

A/T Archant,  that  doefl  endeuour  all  thy  daics, 

To  get  commodities  for  priuate  gaine : 
Caring  no  whit  by  what  fynifter  wayes, 
Nor  by  what  hazard,  trauell,  toyle,  or  paine: 
Neuer  rcfpefling  other  mens  hard  croffes, 
So  thou  mayfl  fell  decrepen- worths  by  their  loffes. 

Thou  that  doefl  couet  all  in  thine  ownc  hand, 

and  for  another  let  him  fmcke  or  fwim : 

Thou  that  haft  bleffmges  both  by  Sea  and  Land, 

Giuen  by  God,  yet  neuer  thankeft  him : 

thou  that  with  carefuU  nights  doeft  breake  thy  fleepe ; 

to  gather  wealth,  which  long  thou  canft  not  keepe. 

He  Stabbe  thee. 



Deceitful!  Artificers. 

A  Rtificers,  and  Crafts-men  of  all  trades, 
That  deale  by  craft  in  felling  and  in  bying: 
You  that  with  falfhood  often  times  perfwades 
Men  to  giue  credite  to  vntrueth  and  lying : 
That  care  not,  fo  your  ware  content  the  eye, 
Though  your  owne  Father  be  deceiu'd  thereby. 

You  that  protefl  to  vfe  a  man  moft  kind. 

And  ferue  him  that,  fhall  well  be  worth  his  mony, 

When  he  that  tryes  you,  fhall  be  fure  to  finde 

The  deedes  proue  Gall,  &  words  containe  the  Hony. 

You  that  are  out-fide  goodly  proteftations. 

But  all  the  in-fide  falfe  difsimulations. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 

D.  Wretched 




■\7'0u  Husband-men  that  heape  &  hord  vp  Corne, 

And  neuer  laugh,  but  when  it  waxeth  deere : 
You  whom  the  poore  do  wifh  had  nere  bin  borne, 
Becaufe  you  famifh  and  vndo  them  heere. 
You  that  an  Alnianacke  ill  11  beare  about, 
To  fearch  and  finde  the  rainy  weather  out. 

You  that  at  plentie  euermore  repine. 
And  hang  your  felues  for  griefe,  to  fee  the  fame. 
You  that  will  weepe  when  as  the  Sunne  doth  fhine, 
And  figh  to  heare  but  of  faire-weathers  name. 
You  that  for  nothing  but  deare  yeeres  do  pray, 
To  Gentleman  your  Sonnes,  another  day. 

lie  Stabbe  yee. 



Svvaggring  Ruffian. 


Ou  Swagg'rer,  with  your  Hat  without  a  band, 
Your  head  befhagg'd  with  nittie  lowfie  lockes. 
You  that  vpon  Tabacco  vertue  ftand, 
Your  only  foueraigne  Medcine  for  the  Pockes 
You  that  weare  Bootes,  and  Ginglers  at  your  heeles. 
Yet  whe  you  ride,  your  coatch  hath  but  two  wheeles. 


You  that  will  meete  one  by  the  high-way  fide, 
And  fweare  Gods  woundes,  Deliuer  me  thy  purfe. 
You  that  for  Bawdy  houfes  do  prouide, 
Though  many  honefl  true  men  fpeed  the  worfe. 
You  that  will  coufen,  cheat,  robbe,  kill,  and  fteale. 
Till  for  your  cloathes,  Hangman  and  Broker  deale. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 

D  2.  Proude 


Proud  Gentlewomen 

■\7'0u  Gentle-puppets  of  the  proudeft  fize, 

That  are  hke  Horfes,  troubled  with  the  Fafhions, 
Not  caring  how  you  do  your  felues  difguife, 
In  finfull  fliameles,  Hels  abhominations. 
You  whom  the  Deuill  (Prides  father)  doth  perfwade 
To  paint  your  face,  &  mende  the  worke  God  made. 

You  with  the  Hood,  the  Falling-band,  and  Ruffe, 
The  Moncky-waft,  the  breeching  like  a  Beare : 
The  Perriwig,  the  Maske,  the  Fanne,  the  Muffe, 
The  Bodkin,  and  the  Buffard  in  your  heare : 
You  Veluet-cambricke-filken-feather'd  toy, 
That  with  your  pride,  do  all  the  world  annoy. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 



Odious  Quarreler. 

A/'Ou  Sir,  that  are  fo  quarrelous  by  nature, 
JL  That  you  fcorne  all  men,  be  they  what  they  will ; 
Tearming  each  one  a  cowardly  bafe  creature, 
That  will  not  fweare  and  curfe,  ftab,  fight,  and  kill. 
You  that  will  challenge  any  to  the  feelde, 
Vowing  while  you  can  ftand,  neuer  to  yeelde. 

You  that  without  any  offence  at  all, 

Will  fhoulder  him  you  meete  vpon  the  way. 

You  that  (by  wounds  and  blood)  will  haue  the  wall, 

Eu'en  in  defpight  of  him  that  dare  fay  nay. 

You  that  inhumane,  brutifh,  moft  vncyuill, 

Profeffe  your  felfe  a  Champion  for  the  Deuill. 

He  Stabbe  you. 

D  3.  Dijloyall 


Disloyall  Traytor. 

FAlfe  harted  Traytor,  bred  of  hidas  kinde, 
Sent  from  the  Furies,  about  Helles  affayres: 
That  vnto  mifchiefe  wholy  art  incHn'd, 
And  neither  for  thy  foule  nor  body  cares: 
Thou  that  with  Sinon  wifheft  Troy  might  bume, 
To  feme  and  fit  the  Deuill,  thy  Maifters  turne. 

Thou  that  doeft  plot  and  pra6life  gainft  the  ftate, 
And  Gods  Annoynted  dar'ft  with  treafon  touch. 
Thou  that  can' ft  to  thy  Soueraigne  be  ingrate. 
Whom  thou  art  dearely  bound  to  honour  much : 
He  fyle  no  handes  vpon  thee ;  I  abhorre  thee, 
But  He  giue  order  to  the  Hangman  for-thee. 



Filthy  Pander. 

YOu  fcuruie  fellow,  in  the  Brokers  fuite, 
A  Sattin  Doublet,  fac'd  with  Greace  and  Ale, 
That  of  the  art  of  Bawdry  can'ft  difpute, 
To  picke  a  lyuing  from  a  damn'd  Whores  tayle. 
Thou  that  within  thy  Table  haft  fet  downe, 
The  names  of  all  the  Squirils  in  the  towne. 

Thou  that  can'ft  holde  a  Fanne,  and  keepe  a  Dore, 
And  offer  any  Conftable  the  ftabbe : 
Thou  that  about  the  ftreetes  can'ft  walke  a  Whore, 
And  bring  her  vnto  him  that  wantes  a  Drabbe. 
Thou  that  art  out-fide  horned  like  an  Oxe, 
Thy  in-fide  all  Tabacco,  and  the  Poxe. 

He  Stabbe  thee. 





"D  Ent-rayfmg  rafcals,  you  that  care  not  how 

You  do  exa6l  vpon  the  needy  wretch, 
That  Hue  euen  on  the  poore  mans  fweating  brow, 
And  from  his  painefull  toyle,  your  ryches  fetch : 
Early  and  late,  his  labours  all  are  fpent, 
To  pay  a  churlifh  dogged  Naball  rent. 

You  whom  the  Prophet  curfeth  with  a  woe, 
Houfe-mongers,  that  on  earth  would  euer  dwell: 
Grinding  the  poore,  as  their  diftreffes  flioe : 
And  at  the  price  of  old  Shooes  do  them  fell. 
You  that  of  Earth  enough  will  neuer  haue, 
Till  foule  in  Hell,  and  body  in  the  graue. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 




THou  filthy  fellow  of  a  beaflly  life, 
Poluted  both  in  body,  and  in  minde : 
That  breakeft  wedlocke  with  thy  la^^^ull  wife, 
And  think'fl  all's  well,  if  thou  the  world  canft  blinde. 
Tut,  Death  ha's  worke  enough  with  other  men, 
Heele  come  when  th'art  an  old  man;  God  knowes 


Tell  thee  of  Judgement,  or  of  Gods  difpleafure. 
Why,  thou  wilt  anfwere,  He  hath  grace  in  ftore: 
And  for  Repentance,  thou  wilt  finde  fome  leafure. 
When  Age  will  let  thee  follow  Whores  no  more. 
Thou  that  wilt  feme  the  Deuill  with  the  beft, 
And  tume  God  to  his  leanings,  and  the  reft. 

He  Stabbe  thee. 





Tj^Ine,  neate,  and  curious  miftris  Butter  flie, 

The  Idle-toy  to  pleafe  an  Idiots  eye 
You  that  wifh  all  Good-hufwiues  hang'd  for  why, 
Your  dayes  work's  done  each  morning  whe  you  rife 
Put  on  your  Gowne,  your  Ruffe,  your  Masskc,  your 
Then  dine  &  fup,  &  go  to  bed  againe.  (Chaine 

You  that  will  call  your  Husband  Gull  &  Clowne, 

If  he  refufe  to  let  you  haue  your  will : 

You  that  will  poute  and  lowere,  and  fret  and  frowne 

Vnleffe  his  purfe  be  lauifh  open  ftill. 

You  that  will  haue  it,  get  it  how  he  can, 

Or  he  fhall  weare  a  Vulcans  brow,  poore  man. 

He  Stabbe  thee. 


Prodigall  Gallant. 

"VT'Ou  Sir  that  haue  your  purfe  cram'd  full  of  crownes 

The  Huely  pi6lure  of  the  Prodigall :  (woundes 

That  haue  your  mouth  furnifh'd  with  blood  and 
And  come  in  Whores,  Wine,  Fidlers :  you'le  pay  all. 
You  that  are  like  the  Divarfc  in  Athens,  right, 
Who  in  fine  dayes,  fpent's  Patrimony  quite. 

You  that  are  churched  once  in  feuen  yeere, 
But  in  a  Tauerne  you  could  Hue  and  die: 
You  that  haue  your  loy  in  Belly-cheere, 
In  Dice,  in  Dauncing,  and  in  Venerie. 
You  that  for  pennance  of  your  paffed  finne, 
In  Woodjireete,  or  the  Poultry,  meane  to  Inne. 


He  Stabbe  thee. 





V/^Ou  goodman  Glutton,  bellyed  like  a  Butt, 

Fac'd  like  the  North-windes-pi6lure  in  a  Map : 
Thou  with  the  neuer  fatisfied  gutt, 
VVhofe  life  is  eate,  and  drinke,  and  take  a  nap. 
Thou  that  if  Wolner  were  aliue  againe, 
Would'ft  eate  more  at  a  meale,  then  he  in  twaine. 

Thou  moft  vnhealthy  lothfome  rauenous  beafl, 
That  tak'ft  delight  in  nothing  but  exceffe : 
And  haft  a  nofe  to  fmell  out  any  Feaft : 
A  brazen  face  to  ceaze  on  euery  meffe, 
That  vndertakeft  nothing  with  good-will, 
Vnleffe  it  be  thy  Pudding-houfe  to  fill. 

He  Stabbe  thee. 



Sooth-fayer,  or 

Figure  flinger. 


\7'0u  Cunning  man,  or  rather  co'fning  Knaue, 
That  will  tell  good-man  Ninney  of  his  Mare : 
Cyjley,  how  many  Husbandes  fhe  fhall  haue, 
Tom  Carter,  when  the  weather  will  be  faire : 
My  neighbour  Fowling,  who  hath  found  his  Purfe, 
And  lone  his  wife,  who  did  her  Chickens  curfe. 

Whether  a  man  fhall  haue  a  happy  life, 
Whether  a  Louer  fliall  his  Loue  enioy: 
Who  fhall  die  firfl,  the  husband  or  the  wife? 
Whether  the  childe  vnborne,  be  girle  or  boy? 
You  that  can  fetch  home  Seruantes  runne  away, 
And  finde  out  any  Cattle  gone  afbray. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 



My  fine  Dauncer. 

TIT  Eigh,  Av'on  turne  more,  let's  fee  this  GalHard  out, 

I  promife  you  the  fellow  doth  it  well : 
How  nimbly  at  his  trade  he  turnes  about, 
At  hopping  vp  and  downe  he  doth  excell : 
Well,  let  him  daunce  it  out,  and  when  tis  done, 
A  daunce  twixt  him  and  Death  muft  be  besrun. 

You  nimble  skipiacke,  turning  on  the  toe, 
As  though  you  had  Gun-pouder  in  your  tayle ; 
You  that  do  leape  about  and  caper  foe, 
Efteeming  our  old  Country  Daunces  ftale. 
You  that  do  Hue  by  fliaking  of  the  heele. 
By  hopping,  and  by  turning  like  a  wheele. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 



lefFery  Make-shift. 

O  Hifter,  that  Hues  without  a  lawfull  calling, 

And  onely  bafeneffe  with  your  humor  fittes, 
That  cares  not  in  what  myfchefe  you  are  falling, 
But  make  an  occupation  of  your  wittes : 
You  that  haue  alwayes  cheating  Dice  in  ftore, 
With,  Come  fiveete  Fiue,  I  holde  yee  fixe  to  foure. 

You  that  can  cunningly  in  Cookes  fhops  brawle, 
And  fhew  your  felfe  in  Chollers  mighty  heate : 
while  your  Confort  fteales  Vi6luals  from  the  ftall, 
To  finde  your  poore  and  needy  ftomacke  meate. 
You  that  for  all  your  diet  with  your  Hoaft, 
Do  fet  your  hand  in  Chalke  vnto  his  Poafl. 

He  Stabbe  you. 




and  ill  Husbandes. 

YOu  careleffe  wretches  of  the  waftfuU  vaine, 
That  for  your  Families  will  not  prouide: 
But  Hue  in  Idleneffe,  and  take  no  paine, 
Spending  your  owne,  and  other  mens  befide : 
That  wife  and  children  vtterly  negle6l, 
And  to  your  feruantes  neuer  haue  refpe6t. 

You  that  do  wifh  them  hang'd,  will  purchafe  landes, 
Tearming  him  that  fpares  Mony,  worfe  then  madde: 
You  that  commit  your  Stocke  to  Vitlers  handes, 
With  Tufh,  a  merry  Hart  outliues  a  fadde. 
You  that  are  a  good  fellow  to  your  friende, 
Druncke  from  the  weekes  beginning  to  the  ende. 

He  Stabbe  yee. 



{Haiie  at  you  all  tojlabbe  and  kill. 
There  flies  my  Dart,  light  wJiere  it  will. 

HEe  that  will  take  no  warning,  let  him  chufe, 
Few  wordes  my  maifters,  I  intende  to  vfe : 
My  deede  and  word,  togither  alwayes  goe, 
I  loue  plaine  dealing,  you  fhall  finde  it  fo. 
The  Stabbe  I  promife,  and  the  Stabbe  He  pay. 
Your  Hartes  fhall  haue  it,  on  their  dying  day. 
But  thinke  that  day  is  very  long  to  come. 
And  you  fhall  Hue  more  yeeres  then  other  fome : 
Thinke  though  your  friendes  and  kindred  dayly  die. 
You  fhall  efcape,  your  turne  is  nothing  nie : 
Put  my  remembrance  farre  out  of  your  minde. 
For  wicked  men  no  hope  in  DcatJi  can  finde : 
They  thinke  vpon  me  with  a  cruell  feare. 
They  quake,  and  tremble,  when  my  name  they  heare. 
I  bring  but  heauie  newes,  their  foules  to  greeue. 
Yet  till  I  come,  they  will  it  not  beleeue. 



Hee  that  hath  health  and  eafe,  with  gould  ftor'd  ftill, 
And  nere  in's  life  did  good,  nor  neuer  will, 
Tell  him  of  Death,  of  ludgement,  and  the  Grmte, 
And  what  reward  in  Hell,  the  wicked  haue; 
That  very  fhortly  he  fhall  not  be  heere,  (cheere, 

That  with  his  flcfh  the  Wormes  fhall  make  good- 
That  other  men  his  hoarded  goodes  fhall  fhare, 
That  hence  he  muft  depart,  poore,  naked,  bare- 
That  earth's  delightes  fhall  be  of  no  efteeme, 
That  all  the  world  cannot  a  Soule  redeeme : 
That  Dines  begg's  for  drops,  where  torments  dwell, 
That  there's  no  comfort  to  be  had  in  Hcl. 
That  they  which  haue  done  good,  to  Hemin  fhall  go 
That  they  which  haue  done  ill,  to  endles  wo. 
His  blockifli  Sences,  worldes  conceites  fo  fmother, 
It  enters  one  eare,  and  goes  out  at  tother. 
Therefore  let  him  that  will  hold  on  his  courfe, 
Goe  on  in  euill,  and  be  worfe  and  worfe : 
Tis  nothing  vnto  mee,  if  heele  not  mende, 
He  Stabbe  him  for  the  Deuill,  there's  an  ende, 
Drinke  and  be  merry  as  good  fellowes  do, 



And  if  you  pleafe  you  may  be  drunken  to. 

Caroufe  your  drunkardes  health's  from  day  to  day, 

Till  I,  and  Sickneffe,  take  your  health  away. 

Sweare  and  blafpheme  Gods  facred  holy  name, 

And  take  delight  in  doing  of  the  fame. 

Thunder  out  Oathes,  fuch  as  in  Hell  are  bred, 

Vntill  I  teare  thy  tongue  out  of  thy  head. 

Beare  thy  felfe  proude  as  loftie  as  thou  can, 

Difpife  the  poore,  difdaine  an  humble  man, 

Boaft  of  thy  ftore  of  wealth,  thy  worldly  wit. 

He  turne  thy  flefli  and  bones  to  rot  for  it. 

Mallice  thy  neighbour,  caufe  thou  fee'ft  him  thriue, 

And  for  to  get  away  his  lyuing,  ftriue. 

Vndoe  him  if  thou  can'fl,  and  for  that  fmne. 

He  leaue  thee  but  a  Clout  to  wrap  thee  in. 

Rayfe  Rentes  apace,  builde  Houfes,  purchafe  Landes, 

Be  alwayes  raking  with  Opprefsins  handes. 

Thinke  all  is  lawfull  purchafe,  thou  can'ft  catch 

from  thy  diftreffed  friendles  needy  wretch. 

Buye  thy  poore  neighbours  Houfe  ouer  his  head, 

Turne  him  and's  children  out  to  begge  their  bread. 




Deale  cruelly  with  thofe  are  in  thy  debt, 
And  let  them  at  thy  handes  no  fauour  get. 
Send  them  to  Prifon;  there  in  all  diftreffe, 
To  tafte  the  mercie  of  the  mercileffe. 
He  fliackle  thee,  for  ftirring  handes  or  feete 
Within  a  Coffin  and  a  Winding-flieete. 
Say  to  thy  felfe,  as  once  the  Churle  did  fay, 
(Whofe  foule  the  Deuill  fetch'd  that  night  away) 
For  many  yeeres,  much  goodes  thou  haft  in  ftore, 
Eate,  drinkc,  be  merry;  take  delight  therefore: 
Exclude  all  Pittie,  Confcience,  and  Remorce. 
Get  Goodes  it  skils  not  how,  by  fraude  or  force. 
He  come  vpon  thee,  when  thou  thinkeft  leaft. 
And  thou  flialt  die,  as  thou  did'ft  hue,  a  Beaft. 
Diffemble  cunning,  do  it  with  a  grace: 
Giue  all  kind  wordes  before  thy  neighbours  face. 
Proteft  thy  kindneffe  he  fliall  neuer  lacke: 
Yet  hang  him  (if  thou  can'ft)  behind  his  backe. 
Flatter,  and  fawne :  with  falfliood  pray  vpon  him : 
Beftow  the  courtecie  of  ludas  on-him : 
Of  all  thy  villany  I  keepe  a  fcore, 



Ere  long  thou  fhalt  deceiue  the  world  no  more. 

Be  a  Time-feruer;  liue  as  others  doo: 

With  fome  prophane,  with  fome  religious  too : 

Yet  howfoeuer  thou  haft  done,  or  fpoke, 

Let  thy  Religion  ferue  but  as  a  cloke.  (flowes, 

Thinke  th'art  a  man  from  whom  much  wifedome 

If  thou  can'ft  blinde  the  eyes  of  men  with  fhowes. 

To  get  thy  felfe  Gods  curfe,  with  worldlings  prayfe, 

Why,  t'is  a  fmne  moft  common  now  adayes, 

Looke  to  it  Wretch,  as  fure  as  Death ;  fo  fure, 

An  euerlafting  Hell,  thou  fhalt  endure. 

Striue  and  contende,  reuenge  the  leaft  offence : 

Threaten  by  Law:  vrge  to  extreame  expence. 

Spende  many  a  pound,  in  quarrell  of  a  penny, 

And  be  it  right  or  wrong,  yeeld  not  to  any. 

Let  no  man  haue  the  ending  of  thy  caufe, 

But  onely  Lawyers;  try  it  by  the  Lawes. 

He  Stabbe  thee  foole;  there's  no  Atturnyes  fee 

Can  finde  out  Law  to  be  reueng'd  on  mee. 

Builde  fumtuous  Houfes,  tytle  them  thine  OAvne: 

Make  wrong  pay-maifter  for  the  wood  and  ftone. 




Let  thy  Wines  pride,  be  all  thy  Tennants  woe, 
Becaufe  the  Deuill  and  fliee,  will  haue  it  fo. 
Hood-her,  and  Mask-her ;  Fanne  her  with  a  Feather : 
Let  Vanitie  and  Lightneffe,  go  together. 
Vpon  the  pleafure  of  thy  Hawkes  and  Houndes 
Wafte  it  away  moft  prodigall,  by  poundes. 
Be  bountifull  in  fpending  on  a  Whore, 
And  myferable  to  relieue  the  poore. 
Feafte  euery  day,  as  once  the  Glutton  did, 
And  none  but  Gluttons  to  thy  Banquets  bid. 
Receiue  thy  foode,  as  Beaftes  do  feede  on  Graffe. 
Sit  downe  like  th'Oxe,  and  rife  as  doth  the  Affe, 
Steale  Gods  good  guiftes,  and  neuer  vfe  his  name, 
Vnleffe  in  fwearing,  to  abufe  the  fame. 
Liue  as  thou  lift :  but  for  thy  time  fo  fpent. 
By  me  to  Judgement,  hence  thou  flialt  be  fent. 
And  this  refolue,  howeuer  Sinne  doth  dlind-thee, 
Eu'en  as  DeatJi  leaues  thee,  fo  flial  hidgement  find-thee 



Deathes  Epitaph, 

vpon  euery  mans  Graue. 

BEhold  thejlate  of  all  the  Sonne  of  Men, 
That  line  to  die,  and  die  they  know  not  when: 
How  Flowerlike  they  wither  and  decay; 
How  foone  Deaths  Sith  doth  moiv  them  downe  like  Hay. 
How  vaine  a  thing  of  all  thinges  els,  is  Man, 
How  fhort  his  life  is  meafiir'd  out  afpan: 
How  he  is  borne  with  teares,  brought  vp  in  paine, 
And  how  withfighes,  he  leaues  the  world  againe. 


S,  R. 


An  Aduei  tifement 

to  the  wife  and  difcreete 

REader;  hee  that  in  difcription  of  a  wic- 
ked man,  doth  perfonate  him,  is  to 
fpeake  as  that  wicked  man,  not  befee- 
ming  a  good  man;  or  elfe  he  can  not  aptly 
dehuer  him  in  his  kinde,  fo  odious  as  hee  is : 
In  refpecl  whereof,  let  not  any  fpeach  herein 
be  mifconftrued,  which  is  onely  fet  downe 
as  fpoken  by  the  rebellious  Heretiques,  the 
more  truely  to  explaine  them  as  notorious  as 
they  were.      Vale. 


N  this  vn-\veeded  Garden  of  the 
World,  hath  fprung  vp  through  alagcs 
of  thcfajuc,  viojl  iiimiiiicrahle  cuen  of 
all  for  ted  kindcs,  that  haiic  been  oppo- 
fite  to  Vertue,  and  pnrfuers  of  Vice ; 
Snch  as  hane  zoith  great  trauell  and 
labour  taken  paynes  to  goe  to  Hell,  and 
runnc  the  broade  way  path  ivith  Hindes  feete,  in  all  poafiing 
fpeede  that  the  Dinell  could  employ  them.  Among  ft  the  refl 
of  this  fearefidl  race  runners  (of  their  vaidable  qualities)  here 
is  a  defer iption  of  the  mofl  notorious  Rebels  and  Heretiques  of 
Europe,  ecrtaine  Germane  Anabaptifles,  fucJi,  as  luould  hauc 
all  tilings  common,  and  all  men  at  free  tvill  and  libertie  to  do 
tuhat  they  lift,  ivithout  controwle  of  any  Authoritie :  euery 
mans  Will  Lazv;  and  cu cry  ones  Dreame  Do6lrine. 

Before  the  comming  of  our  Sauiour  Chrift ;  Theudas,  and 
ludas  Galila^us,  tzvo  feditious  fellowes  of  fa6lious  fpirit,f edu- 
ced the  lewes :  Thefirft  of  them  faying,  that  hee  zuas  a  Prophet 
fent  from  God  for  mans  good;  and  that  by  his  ozune  poiuerfull 
zuord,  hee  could  dcuide  the  zuaters  of  Jordan  i?i,  as  admirable 

('^  -•  fort, 

To    the    Reader. 

fort,  as  lofliua  tJie  fcniant  of  the  Lord  had  done.  The  other, 
did  earnejlly  promife  to  enlarge  the  lewes  from  the  feruitiidc 
and  yoke  of  the  Romans :  hotJi  of  them  by  thefe  meanes,  dra- 
wing after  tJiem  great  multitudes  of  people;  and  both  of  them 
comming  vnto  deferued  deflrii6lion:  For  Fatus  tJie  Goiter- 
Jionr  of  lury  02iertooke  Theudas,  and  fent  his  head  as  a  ino- 
miment  to  lerufalem:  ajid  ludas  likeiuife periJJied,  and  all  Jiis 
foUoiving  confederates  tvere  difperfed. 

After  our  Sauiour  Chrift,  in  the  time  of  his  hlefsed  Apo- 
flles,  Elimas  tJie  Soreerer  mightely  ivitJ flood  the  proeccding 
of  Paule  &  Barnabas,  yi;rc7V/^  the  feed  of  Herefie  in  the  mindc 
of  Sergius  Paulus  Deputie:  but  the  iudgement  of  God  ouer- 
tooke  him,  and  he  ivas  Jlrucken  with  blind nejfe.  Not  long  after 
Jiim,  in  the  raigne  of  Adrian  tJie  Emperour,  arofe  an  other  cal- 
led Bencochab,  that  prof  cffcd  himfelfe  to  be  the  Mefsias,  &  to 
hauc  defended  from  Heauen  in  the  likenes  of  a  Starre,  for  the 
fafetie  &  redemption  of  the  people:  by  which  fallaeic,  he  dreio 
after  him  a  luorld  of  f editions  people;  but  at  lafl,  hee  and 
many  of  his  crcdidous  route  were  flaine,  and  was  called  by  the 
Icwcs  (in  eonte7npt)  Bencozba  (tJiat  is)  the  Sonne  of  a  lie. 

Manes,  of  tvhom  the  Maniches  tooke  their  name  and  firfl 
originall,  forged  in  his  fooliJJi  braine  a  fi^ion  of  two  Gods, 


To   the   Reader. 

and  two  beginners;  and  reiccliug  the  old  Tejiavtent,  and  the 
true  God,  li'hich  is  rcuealed  in  the  fame ;  publiJJicd  a  fift  Gof- 
pell  of  Ids  oivnc  forgeric,  reporting  hintfelfe  to  be  the  Holy 
Ghoft :  When  he  had  thus  with  dinulging  his  diucliJJi  Here- 
Jies  and  Blafphcmics  mfeded  tJie  zvorld,  being piirfucd  by  Gods 
iujl  indgement,  hee  was  for  other  wieked  pra£lizes  taken,  and 
his  sJdnne  pidled  oner  his  cares  aline. 

Montanus  tJiat  notorious  blafpJienions  wretch,  of  zuhom 
the  Montanifts  tooke  their  ofspring,  denyed  Chrift  our  Sa- 
niotir  to  be  GOD,  faying:  Hee  was  bnt  Man  onely,  like 
other  men,  withont  any  participation  of  Ditdne  cfsence:  Hee 
called  Jdmfclfc  the  Co7nforter,  and  Holy  fpirit,  zvhich  zvas  pi'o- 
mifcd  to  come  into  the  world;  and  Ids  two  Wines  Prifcilla 
and  Maximilla,  he  named  his  Prophetejfes,  and  their  writings 
Prophefies:  yet  all  their  cunning  could  not prcncnt  nor  fore- 
tell a  %vr etched  and  defperate  end  zvhich  befell  him;  for  after 
he  had  of  lotig  tifne  deluded  the  world,  in  imitation  of  ludas, 
hee  hanged  hintfelfe. 

Infinite  are  the  examples  that  may  be  colle6led  out  of  the 
regifiers  of  foregone  ages,  touching  the  lamentable  etdlles, 
flaughters,  blood,  and  death,  that  haue  enfued  from  the  dam- 
nable heriticall  Infiruments  of  the  Diuell;  and  hoiv  thepeo- 

A.  pie 

To   the    Reader. 

pic  (affcfting  Noiieltics,  and  Innovations)  hanc  concnrrcd 
from  time  to  time,  luith  the  plotters  endeuonrs,  Hijlories  are 
ftill  of  their  memories.  Mofl  Rebellions  do  pretende  Religion 
for  them  felnes :  No  Villaijie  bnt  dare  turnc  a  good  ontfide  to 
the  eye,  though  the  infide  be  as  bad,  as  heart  ean  imagine. 

Thefe  in f anions  Rebels  and  Heretiques  in  Germanie, 
pretended  Religion;  they  zuonld  be  Refor^ners  of  the  Chnrch, 
and  State:  neiv  Do6lrine  of  their  oivne  frantieke  co7iceites: 
no  Childred  Jlioidd  be  Baptized:  all  thinges  JJiould  be  com- 
mon, &  no  Magiftrate  to  goiLcrnc,  bnt  enery  man  at  Ids  ozvnc 
libertie  to  doe  what  he  lifi;  take  ivhatfocucr  he  flood  in  need  of, 
zvithout pay :  plnralitie  of  Wines:  no  reconerie  of  'wro7igfull 
detayned  Goodes,  and  fnch  like  villanous  roguijli  fluffe,  that 
neiier  a  Theefc  in  the  zuorld  luonld  refufe  to  fnbfcribc  vnto  it. 

This  was  no  fooner  taught  by  lohn  Leyden,  rt'/Z^'j  Yoncker 
Hans  a  DutcJi  Taylor,  Tom  Myiiter  a  parijli  Clarke,  Knip- 
perdulling  a  Smyth,  and  Crafteing  a  loyncr;  but  it  was  im- 
hraced  by  thoufandes  of  the  Boores,  and  vulgar  illiterate 
Clozvnes,  zvho  in  great  companies  dayly  reforted  vnto  them 
foortJc  of  all  Tozvnes  and  Villages:  A  mofl  rude  rafeall  corn- 
panic  that  regarded  neither  Gods  fear e,  nor  mans  fan  our,  cucn 


To    the    Reader. 

In  their  oiitragioiis  viadncs,  tJicy  attempted  imich  I'illanie, 
omitting  to  put  notlung  in  pra6lize  that  Jlood  with  their  hit- 
monrs  lyking;  as  good  Conwions  Wealths  men,  as  lacke 
Straw,  Watt  Tyler,  Tom  Myller,  lohn  Ball,  &e.  in  the 
raigne  of  Richard  the  2.  and  as  found  Dinincs  for  Doctrine, 
as  Rackets  Difciplcs;  that  preaehcd  in  Cheapefide  in  a 
Peafc-cart:  Yet  they  found  of  their  oivne  f  rater nitic  to  man- 
nagc  the  Diucls  affayres;  and  mufleritig  themfelues  togeatJier, 
all  conipofed  of  the  fcunibe  and  zvafle  zvorferfort  could  be  ra- 
ken  vp,  they  proceeded  fo  farre,  that  they  iooke  the  Tozvne  of 
Munfter,  and  there  for  a  time,  domiiieerd  as  if  they  had  been 
Ele6lors  apcece  to  the  Emperour ;  vntill  beeing  belcagerd  by 
the  Duke  of  Saxon,  they  zvere  taugJtt  to  taflc  Jiozv  Exiremitic 
did  fauour,  finding  the  bitterneffc  of  their  rafJi  and  gracelejfe 
attcmptes,  to  punifJi  iheni  moji  feueerely  in  the  end:  For  luheti 
Cattes,  Dogges,  Rattes  and  Myce,  grczv  fearee  and  daintie, 
(No  common  difJi,  hut  cJioycc  dyet  for  lohn  Leyden,  and  the 
Lordes  of  his  eounfailc  KnipperduUing  the  Smyth,  Craftehig 
tJic  loyner,  and  Tom  Mynter  tJie  Clarke;)  They  zvere  con- 
Jlrayned  to  frie  old  greafie  Buffe  leather  lerkins,  and  Pai'ch- 
inents,  Cooners  of  Bookes,  Bootes  in  Stcakes,  and  Stezv-pottes  of 
old  Shoes,  till  in  the  end  being  famiflied  as  leanc  as  dryed 

A  2.  Stock- 

To   the    Reader. 

Stock-fiJJi,  they  ivcrc  fubducd :  and  Lcydcn  {rcho  had  tearmed 
Jiivifdfc  King  of  IMunfter)  ivith  his  Nobles,  made  of  Smyth, 
loyner,  and  Parifli-Clarke,  iverc  according  to  the  iujl  rc- 
ivard  of  all  Rebels,  p7it  to  death,  ivith  great  tortinr:  and  be- 
ing dead,  their  bodies  ivere  hang'd  in  Iron  Cages  vpon  the 
toppe  of  the  high  Steeple  in  Munftcr  called  S.  Lamberts 
Steeple, /i^r  an  example  to  all  of  Rcbell  race:  Their  Confede- 
rates in  great  inultit2ides  Jiauing periflied  luitli  the  Szvord  and 
famine,  may  togeather  zuith  all  Tray  tors  zvitncjjfe  to  the  zuorld 
throughout  all  enfuing  ages,  hozo  GOD  zvith  vengeance  re- 
zuardes  all  fnch  State-diflurbers,  and  factious  Rebels. 



I  That  did  a6l  on  Smythfeildes  bloodie  Stage, 
In  fecond  Richards  young  and  tender  age: 
And  there  recel'ud  from  Wakuorths  fatall  hand, 
The  ftabb  of  Death,  which  life  did  countermand : 

Am  made  a  Prulogue  to  the  Tragedie, 

Of  LE  YDEN,  a  Dutch  Taylors  villanie. 

Not  that  I  ere  conforted  with  that  flaue. 

My  rafcall  rout  in  HollenJJicd  you  haue : 

But  that  in  name,  and  nature  wee  agree, 

An  EngliJJi  Traytor  I,  DiitcJi  Rebell  hee. 

In  my  Confort,  I  had  the  Prieft  loJui  Ball; 

Mynter  the  Clarke,  vnto  his  fhare  did  fall. 

Hee,  to  haue  all  things  common  did  intend : 

And  my  Rebellion,  was  to  fuch  an  end. 

Euen  in  a  word,  wee  both  were  like  apoynted, 




To  take  the  Sword  away  from  Gods  Anoynted : 
And  for  examples  to  the  worlds  laft  day, 
Our  Traytours  names  fhall  neuer  weare  away: 
The  fearefuU  Path's  that  hee  and  I  haue  trod, 
Haue  bin  accurfed  in  the  fight  of  God. 
Heere  in  this  Regifter,  who  ere  doth  looke, 
(Which  may  be  rightly  call'd  TJie  bloody  Booke) 
Shall  fee  how  bafe  and  rude  thofe  Villains  bee, 
That  do  attempt  like  LE  YDEN;  plot  like  mee. 
And  how  the  Diu'll  in  whofe  name  they  begon, 
Payes  them  Hells  wages,  when  their  worke  is  don; 
"  Treafon  is  bloodie;  blood  thereon  attends: 
"  Traytors  are  bloodie,  and  haue  bloodie  ends. 



FRoni  darke  Damnations  vault,  zvhere  Horroiirs  dwell, 
Inf email  Furies,  forth  the  lake  of  Hell 
A  riiHd  on  earth,  and  zvitJi  their  damned  eidls 
FiWd  the  zuhole  zvorldfull  of  Incarnat  Deuils: 
For  all  thefinnes  that  Hells  vafl  gidfe  containes, 
hi  euery  age,  and  enery  kiiigdome  raignes: 
Murder,  and  Treafon,  Falfe  difloy  all  plots, 
Sedition,  Herefie,  and  rognifli  knots: 
Of  trayfrous  Rebels;  Some  of  highefl place, 
And fome  of  mcaneft  fort,  inofl  rafcall  bace: 
Of  which  degree,  behold  a  curfed  erne. 
Such  as  Hells-mouth  into  the  World  didfpue: 
lOHN  LE  YDEN,  but  a  Taylor  by  his  trade, 
Of  Munfler  towne  a  King  would  tieedes  be  made: 
A  Parrifli  Clarke,  a  loyner,  and  a  Smyth, 
His  Nobles  were,  wJioni  hee  tooke  counfell  with : 
To  thefe  adioyned  thoufands,  Boores  and  Clownes, 
Out  of  the  Villages,  and  Germane  Townes: 
Whereof  great  loffe  of  blood  greeuous  enfewd, 
Before  that  Campe  of  Hell  coidd  be  fubdew  d. 

S.   R. 



T  T\  THen  nights  blacke  mantle  ouer  th' earth  was  laide, 
V     V  And  CintJiias  face  all  curtaine-drawne  with  clouds : 
When  vifions  do  appeare  in  darkfome  fhade, 
And  nights  fweet  reft,  dayes  care  in  quiet  llirowds; 
About  the  hower  of  twelue  in  dead  of  night, 
A  mangled  Corfe  appeared  to  my  fight. 

Skin  torne,  Flefh  wounded,  vgly  to  behold: 
A  totterd  Body  peece-meale  pull'd  in  funder: 
Harken  (quoth  hee)  to  that  which  fhall  be  told, 
And  looke  not  thus  amaz'd  with  feare  and  wonder: 
Though  I  am  all  beftabbed,  flafh'd,  and  torne, 
I  am  not  Cafar,  him,  an's  ghofl  I  fcorne. 

Icke  bin  Hans  Leyden;  vnderftandft  thou  Dutch? 
10 HN  LEYDEN  King  of  Munjlevy  I  am  hee, 
That  haue  in  Germanie  bin  feard  as  much. 
As  any  Ccefar  in  the  world  could  bee : 
From  the  firft  houre  that  I  armes  did  take, 
I  made  the  Germaine  Gallants  feare  and  quake. 

B.  By 



By  facultie  at  firft,  I  was  a  Taylour, 
But  all  my  minde  was  Kingly  eue'ry  thought : 
For  e'en  with  Cerberus,  Hels  dogged  laylour, 
A  combat  hand  to  hand  I  durft  haue  fought: 
Then  with  my  trade,  what's  hee  that  hath  to  doo? 
Old  Father  Adam  was  a  Tayloiir  too: 

Hee  made  him  Fig  leaue  Breeches  at  his  fall, 

And  of  that  ftufife  his  Wife  a  Kirtle  wore: 

Then  let  both  Needle,  Threed,  my  Sheares  and  all, 

Keepe  with  the  trade ;  a  Noble  minde  I  bore : 

And  let  this  Title  witnes  my  renowne, 

10  HN  LE  YD  EN  T ay  lour,  King  of  Mtmjler  towne. 

My  Councellcrs  were  thefe,  a  valiant  Smyth, 
As  tall  a  man  as  euer  ftrooke  a  heate, 
Call'd  K nipper dtdling',  wondrous  full  of  pith : 
Craftiftg  the  loyner,  one  of  courage  great : 
Tom  Myntcr,  a  madd  Rogue,  our  Parrijh  Clarke, 
Whofe  doflrine  wee  with  diligence  did  marke. 




Hee  taught  on  topp  of  Mole-hill,  Bufh,  and  Tree, 
The  Traytors  text  in  England;  Par/on  Ball 
Affirming  wee  ought  Kings  apeece  to  bee. 
And  euery  thing  be  common  vnto  all : 
For  when  old  Adam  delu'd,  and  Euah  fpan, 
Where  was  my  filken  veluet  Gentleman  ? 

Wee  Adams  Sonnes;  Hee  Monarch  of  the  Earth, 
How  can  wee  chufe  but  be  of  Royall  blood? 
Beeing  all  defcended  from  fo  high  a  birth? 
Why  fhould  not  wee  fhare  wealth,  and  worldly  good? 
Tufh  Maifters  (quoth  Tom  Mynter)  reafon  binds  it, 
Hee  that  lacks  Mony,  take  it  where  he  finds  it. 

Why,  is  not  euery  thing  Gods  guift,  we  haue  ? 
Doe  Beaftes  and  Cattell  buy  the  Graffe  they  eate? 
Shall  that  be  fould,  which  Nature  freely  gaue? 
Why  fhould  a  Man  pay  Mony  for  his  Meate, 
Or  buy  his  Drinke,  that  parboyld  Beere  and  Ale, 
The  Fyfhes  broth,  which  Brewers  do  retayle? 




Pray  who  is  Landlord  to  the  Lyons  den? 
Or  who  payes  Houfe-rent  for  the  Foxes  hole  ? 
Shall  Beaftes  enioy  more  priuiledge  then  Men? 
May  they  feed  dayly  vpon  that  is  ftole, 
Eating  and  drinking  freely  Natiir's  ftore, 
Yet  pay  for  nought  they  take,  nor  goe  on  fcore? 

Do  not  the  Fowles  fliare  fellow  like  together, 
And  freely  take  their  foode  eu'en  where  they  pleafe, 
A  whole  yeeres  dyet  coftes  them  not  a  Fether? 
And  likewife  all  the  Fyfhes  in  the  Seas, 
Do  they  not  franckly  feed  on  that  they  get, 
And  for  their  victu'als  are  in  no  mans  debt  ? 

And  fliall  Man,  being  Lord  of  all  the  reft, 

(Vnto  whofe  feruice  thefe  were  all  ordayned) 

Of  meate,  nor  drinke,  nor  clothing,  be  poffeft, 

Vnleffe  the  fame  by  Mony  be  obtayned? 

Pay  Houfe-rent,  buy  his  foode,  and  all  his  clothing, 

When  other  Creatures  haue  good  cheare  for  nothing? 




Wee'le  none  of  that  (quoth  I,  to  my  conforts.) 
No  (quoth  Tom  Myntcr)  frends,  it  ought  not  bcc : 
Come  Libertic,  and  Wealth,  and  Princely  /ports: 
Why,  Kings  are  made  of  Clay;  and  fo  are  wee: 
Wee'le  ayme  our  thoughts  on  high,  at  Honors  marke: 
All  rowly,  powly;  Tayler,  Smyth,  and  Clarke. 

Wee  are  the  men  will  make  our  Valours  knowne, 

To  teach  this  doting  world  new  reformation : 

New  Lawes,  and  new  Religion  of  our  owne. 

To  bring  our  felues  in  v/ondrous  admiration : 

Let's  turne  the  world  cleane  vpfide  downe,  (mad  flaucs) 

So  to  be  talk'd  of,  when  w'are  in  our  Graues. 

Braue  Knipperdiilling,  fet  thy  Forge  on  fire. 
It  fhall  be  done  this  prefent  night  (quoth  hee,) 
Tom  ]\Ty liter,  leaue  Amen  vnto  the  Quier. 
Quoth  Tom,  I  fcorne  hencefoorth  a  Clarke  to  bee, 
Cornellis,  hang  thy  woodden  loyners  trade, 
For  Noble-men  apeece  you  fliall  be  made. 




And  fellow  mates;  Nobles  and  Gallants  all, 
To  IMaieftie  you  muft  your  mindes  difpofe: 
My  Lord  Hans  Hogg,  forfake  your  Butchers  flail. 
Hcndrick  the  Botcher,  ccafe  from  heeling  Hofc. 
Claffc  Chaundler,  let  your  Weick  and  Tallow  lye. 
And  Pcctcr  Cobler,  caft  your  old  Shooes  by. 

For  you  my  valiant  Lords,  are  men  of  witt, 
And  farre  too  good  for  bafe  and  feruile  trades. 
Your  Martiall  power  may  be  compared  fitt, 
Vnto  the  flrength  of  our  ftrong  Germane  lades : 
Who  if  they  had  but  knowledge  to  their  force. 
What  whiftling  Car-man  could  commaund  his  Horfe.^ 

Your  guifts  arc  rare,  and  fmgular  to  finde, 
Beeing  full  of  courage,  refolute,  and  wife : 
Yet  to  behold  thefe  parts  you  haue  bin  blinde. 
Oh  could  you  fee  your  Valour  with  mine  eyes, 
You  would  exclame  that  Ignoraunce  fo  long, 
Hath  done  fo  v/orthy  Men,  fuch  open  wrong. 




But  now  my  Lyon-harted  Caualiers, 

Let  vs  march  after  war-like  Mars  his  Drome, 

Your  Prentifliips  arc  out  of  fubie6l  yeeres; 

Now  let  vs  fliow  the  Houfcs  whence  wee  come : 

For  wondrous  matters  there  are  to  be  done, 

Crownes  muft  be  conquerd,  Kingdoms  mufl  be  wonne. 

To7n  Alyiitcr,  goe  and  preach  vnto  the  Boores 
All  Libertie,  all  Freedome,  Eafe,  and  Wealth: 
And  if  they  will,  alow  them  Oueanes  and  Whores : 
Bid  them  Drinke  free,  and  pledge  Good-fellows  health : 
Say  Goods  are  common,  each  man  to  fuffize, 
The  Rich-mans  purfe,  is  Poore-mans  lawfull  prize. 

Tell  them,  they  need  not  ftand  on  honeft  dealing, 
To  borrow  Mony,  and  to  pay  againe : 
And  thofe  that  haue  occafion  to  be  ftealing. 
May  take  a  Purfe,  if  need  do  fo  conflraine: 
Poore  Men  mufl  haue  it :  Gentlemen  muft  Hue : 
Good-fellowes  cannot  flay  till  Llifers  giue. 





There's  none  of  vs  (my  Maifters)  but  may  want, 
Our  Purfes  may  haue  emptie  ftomackes  all, 
But  he  fhall  finde  his  dyet  to  be  fcant, 
Whofe  credit's  fcord  vpon  an  Ale-houfe  wall, 
I  owe  a  debt  my  felfe  onely  for  Beere, 
Amounts  to  more  then  I  haue  earnd  this  yeere. 

And  let  me  come  to  a  bafe  Tapfters  houfe. 
Where  I  but  owe  fome  twentie  doofen  of  Beere, 
The  rafcall  will  not  giue  me  one  carowfe. 
But  tels  me  ftraight  how  eu'ery  thing  is  deere : 
Tis  a  hard  world,  the  Brewer  muft  be  pay'd : 
Thus  on  my  emptie  Purfe  the  Villaine  play'd. 

This  is  his  ftate,  v/hofe  Purfe  is  lyned  thin. 

And  goes  on  truft,  beholding  for  his  fliot. 

With,  By  your  leaue,  hee  muft  come  creeping  in : 

I  pray  you  Brother,  let  vs  haue  a  Pot, 

How  does  all  heere?  pray  is  mine  Hoftes  well? 

Curffe  not  your  debters :  How  doeft  honeft  Nell. 



This  fliaking  humor,  I  do  much  detefi, 

Which  emptie  Purfes  do  infli6i:  on  fome: 

I  can  not  be  beholden,  I  proteft, 

Mony  muft  make  mee  welcome  where  I  come: 

If  Siluer  in  my  Pockets  do  not  ring, 

All's  out  of  tune  v/ith  mee  in  eu'ry  thing. 

What  extreame  griefe  doth  Monyes  want  procure? 
Hov/  madd  and  franticke  doth  it  make  the  minde? 
Againe,  how  chearefully  can  ]\Iony  cure  ? 
When  Phificke  comes  in  Gold,  and  Siluer's  kinde, 
To  thinke  on  this,  what's  hee,  that  would  not  craue  it. 
And  fight  himfelfe  out  of  his  skin  to  haue  it? 

Thus  my  braue  Caualiers,  you  plainely  fee, 
Vpon  what  golden  ground  wee  fet  our  foote, 
Courage  Dutch  bloods,  I  fay  couragious  bee, 
Wee  will  haue  Wealth,  and  Libertie  to  boote : 
Let  vs  goe  fonvard  as  we  haue  begone. 
And  wee'le  make  bloody  fport  before  ti's  done. 




KNIPPERDVLLING,  and  their 

confortes;  the  firjl  inuentoys  of  the 

Drcanics  and  Dotages  of  the 

heriticall  Anahaptifts 

in  Gernianie. 

THere  neuer  was  fo  odious  a  pretence, 
Nor  any  A(5l  fo  wicked  and  fo  vile, 
But  fome  would  take  vpon  them  a  defence 
To  colour  it ;  the  eafier  to  beguile 
The  fimple  fort,  which  haue  vnftaycd  mindes, 
Whofe  haftie  Judgment  Errour  eafly  blindes. 

So  thefe  leawd  wretches,  fprung  from  Villain  race, 

That  had  all  Pietie  in  detefbation : 

A  Rafcall  fort,  that  were  eu'en  fpent  of  Grace, 

Would  take  on  them  Religions  reformation : 

And  in  the  fore-front  of  their  villanie, 

Tom  Mynter  vtters  new  fond  Herezie. 




Dearc  Friends  (quoth  he)  that  wee  may  hauc  fucceffe, 

In  this  our  honorable  entcrprife: 

Which  you  fliall  fee  the  very  heau'ens  will  bleffe, 

If  from  a  Chriftian  zeale  it  do  arife, 

Let's  mendc  the  Church  in  matters  are  amilTc, 

Efpecially  in  one  thing;  which  is  this, 

C/iriJl  gauc  commifsion  to  the  twelue,  faying: 
l7ito  all  Nations;  Preach,  and  there  Baptize. 
So  that  you  fee  the  very  Avordes  doe  fliowe, 
And  from  the  fubftaunce  of  them  doth  arife, 
Wee  flrft  muft  be  of  yeeres  to  vnderfhand, 
Before  wee  take  that  Sacrament  in  hand. 


Therefore  wee'le  haue  no  Babes  to  be  Baptized, 
Vntill  thy  come  to  yeeres  of  ripe  difcretion, 
That  of  the  Fayth  they  may  be  firft  aduifed 
And  yeeld  the  world  accompt  of  their  profefsion ; 
For  you  may  fee,  vnleffe  your  fight  be  blinde. 
Belief e  is  firft,  and  B  apt  if  vie  comes  behind  c. 




And  yet  (my  Maiftars)  you  may  dayly  fee, 
In  any  Country  where  fo  ere  you  come, 
Such  flore  of  httle  Children  chriftned  bee : 
T'is  infinite  for  one  to  count  the  fumme: 
But  let  vs  take  another  courfe,  I  pray; 
Thofe  forward  Sucklings  fhall  hereafter  fla}-. 

What  fay  you  to  it?  are  you  all  agree' d, 

That  this  fame  do6lrine  fliall  be  our  chiefe  ground  ? 

It  fhall  (fayd  Lcydcii)  and  I  haue  decreed, 

That  it  be  helde  for  holfome,  good,  and  found : 

And  for  example  I  haue  thought  it  beft, 

To  be  new  Chriftned  heere,  before  the  reft. 

Let's  haue  a  Bafon,  and  fome  Water  ftraight, 
With  all  the  prefent  fpeed  it  may  be  brought : 
For  I  perceiue  this  matter  is  of  waight. 
My  Chrift'ning  when  I  was  a  Child,  is  nought; 
Surely  I  thinke  I  am  no  Chriftian  yet, 
A  Bookc  good  honeft  Myntcr  quickly  get. 




Well  fayd,  ar't  readie?     Shall  wee  need  God-father? 

Yes :  take  you  Harman  Croinmc,  or  any  other : 

I  haue  a  minde  to  Knippcrdiilling  rather: 

And  Tamickin  may  ferue  to  be  God-mother, 

Or  KnipperdtiUing  ioyn'd  with  Harmon  Cromme : 

Let  it  be  fo:  fome  water;  quickly  come. 

Thus  on  they  goe,  with  errours  foule  defil'd, 

In  rude  prophaning  Holy  ordinaunce: 

And  Myntcr  asketh,  Who  doth  name  the  Child  ? 

Call  him  (quoth  Knipperdnlling)  Yonckcr  Hafts, 

His  noble  minde,  and  nature  do  agree, 

And  therefore  hee  a  Yoncher  Hans  fliall  be. 

Now  (quoth  Tom  Mynter)  let  mee  make  a  motion, 
To  which  I  do  befeech  you  all  incline : 
Let  cuery  man  that's  hcere,  with  one  deuotion. 
Come  follow  mee  to  drinke  fome  Rennifh  wine; 
Our  inward  loue,  let  outward  deedes  reueale  it, 
And  to  the  Taueme  let  vs  goe  and  feale  it. 



The  Rebels  dayly  iiicreafing  in  gnat  multitudes  of  the 
mde  Bo  ores,  and  illiterate  Clozvnes,  propounded  vnto 
thenifehies  diners  monjlrons  abfnrdities,  confir- 
med by  their  Captaincs  Yoncker,  Hans,  and 
Knipperdulling:  ivJdch  by  tJicni  arc 
Intituled  Tzuelue  Articles  of 
Chriflian  Libert ie. 

WHat  is  it  from  the  Cocatricc  doth  paffe, 
But  fuch  a  natur'd  Serpent  as  him  felfe  ? 
What  fees  an  Ape  within  a  Looking-glaffe, 
But  a  deformed,  and  ill  fauour'd  elfe? 
What  Good  fruite  commeth  from  an  euill  tree? 
Or  how  fhould  Villains  ought  but  Villains  bee  ? 

Like  defper'at  mad-men,  voyde  of  Reafons  v'fe, 

They  run  to  any  outrage  can  be  thought : 

And  Libertie  is  made  the  Rebels  fcufe, 

Which  now  by  Dreames  and  Fancies  fo  hath  wrought, 

That  Yoncker  Hans  vnto  his  rable  rout, 

Twelue  Articles  of  Libertie  giues  out. 




And  firfb  fets  downc:  They  need  not  ftand  in  feare 

Of  Magiftrate  or  Ruler,  for  offence : 

But  they  themfelues  might  caufes  freely  heare, 

And  fo  end  matters;  fauing  much  expence 

Of  Coyne  in  Fees,  which  vnto  Lawyers  fall : 

For  wee'Ie  (quoth  Yonhcr  Hans)  be  Lawyers  all. 

If  that  a  wrong  to  any  man  be  done, 
Let  him  repaire  to  mee,  and  my  two  Lords, 
Wee'Ie  end  the  ftrife  fo  foone  as  ti's  begone : 
For  halfe  a  doozen  of  Beere,  in  quiet  words. 
And  make  them  drlnke  together,  and  be  friends, 
Shake  hands,  and  like  good  fellowes  make  amends. 

Next,  if  a  man  s  difpofed  for  to  ride, 
And  hath  no  Horfe,  nor  doth  intend  to  hire, 
Hee  may  take  one  vpon  the  high-way  fide, 
To  ferue,  as  his  occafion  doth  require, 
Ali-wayes  prouided,  when  his  lournye's  don, 
Hee  is  to  turnc  him  loofc,  and  let  him  run. 




Alfo,  if  any  Woman  chauncc  to  marrie, 
And  that  her  Husband  prooue  not  to  her  minde, 
Shoe  fhall  be  at  her  choyce  with  him  to  tarrle, 
Or  take  an  other  whom  flie  knowes  more  kinde : 
Wee  thinke  it  meete  no  Woman  fliould  be  bound, 
To  him  in  whom  no  kindnes  can  be  found. 

For  if  fhee  match  for  Wit,  and  hee  turne  Clowne, 
Or  any  way  her  bargaine  prooueth  ill, 
Shee  may  ftay  with  him  till  her  wedding  Gowne 
Be  worne,  and  then  be  at  her  owne  free-will, 
To  take  another,  and  exchange  the  Lout : 
This  Law  of  ours,  fliall  ferue  to  beare  her  out. 

Yea,  further  (which  fhould  hauc  bin  fayd  before) 
That  man  which  hath  not  Wife  enough  of  one, 
Why,  let  him  (if  he  pleafe)  take  halfe  a  fcore : 
Wee'Ie  be  his  warrant,  for  to  builde  vpon: 
Wee  in  our  wifedomes  do  alow  it  fo. 
For  good  found  reafons  that  Avee  haue  to  fliow. 





For  fay,  you  meete  with  fucli,  as  moft  men  do, 
Of  this  fame  proud,  and  idle  hufwife  brood, 
Shrewifh,  and  toyifli ;  foolifh,  queanifh  to : 
Full  of  bad  faults,  and  nere  an  inch  that's  good : 
What  fliould  men  do  with  fuch  vngratious  wiues  ? 
Turnc  them  to  graffe,  and  fo  Hue  quiet  liues. 

Befides,  Tenants  fhall  need  to  pay  no  rent. 

The  Earth's  the  Lord's,  and  all  that  is  therein: 

Land-lords  may  hang  them-felues  with  one  confent; 

And  if  they  pleafe,  next  Quarter  day  begin : 

Wee  will  not  be  indebted  vnto  any, 

But  be  Free-holders,  paying  not  a  penny. 

All  Bonds  and  Bils,  lliall  be  of  no  effe6l : 
And  hee  that  will  not  pay  his  Debt,  may  chufe : 
This  Hand,  and  Seale,  no  man  fliall  need  refpe6l: 
Day  of  the  month;  and  toyes  that  Scriueners  vfe: 
Sheepe-skins,  and  Waxe,  fhall  now  no  more  preuayle, 
To  bring  a  man  into  the  dolefuU  layle. 




All  Prifons  fhall  be  prefently  pul'd  downe, 
For  wee  will  liaue  good  Fellowes  walke  at  large: 
A  paire  of  Stocks  fliall  not  appeare  in  Towne: 
This  in  our  names,  wee  very  ftraiglitly  charge : 
What  reafon  is  it  when  the  hands  haue  ftole, 
To  put  the  Legs  into  a  wodden  hole? 

No  man  fhall  need  obay  any  Areft, 

Let  th'  a6lion  be  what  t'Avill,  trefpaffe  or  debt : 

All  Surety-lliip,  fhall  be  an  idle  left : 

No  Creditor  thereby  fliall  vantage  get : 

All  Beafls  and  Cattell,  Oxen,  Sheepe,  and  Kine, 

Shall  be  his  that  will  haue  them :  yours,  and  mine. 

All  Forrefts,  Parks,  and  Chafes,  fhall  be  free 

For  each  man  that  delighteth  in  the  game : 

Orchards  and  Gardens  likewife  common  bee : 

All  Fruites  and  Hearbs,  let  him  that  will  come  clayme: 

And  euery  thing  that  any  man  fliall  need. 

According  to  his  will,  let  him  proceed. 

D  2. 




Who  will  not  draw  his  weapon  in  this  caufc, 
And  fight  it  out,  as  long  as  he  can  ftand? 
Which  of  you  all  will  difalow  thefe  Lawes, 
And  will  deny  our  Articles  his  hand? 
Then  all  cry'd  out,  This  Do6lrinc  wee'lc  defende, 
And  lines  a  peece  about  it  wee  Avill  fpende. 

Our  Will's  our  Law;  our  Swordes  the  fame  fliall  pen, 
What  wee  decree,  let's  fee  who  dare  refift? 
Wee  care  not  for  the  Lawes  of  other  men. 
But  will  without  controule  do  what  wee  lift : 
Wee  are  growne  ftrong;  and  wee  are  veiy  wife, 
My  honeft  Gentlemen,  let  this  fuffize. 

With  courage  now  let  vs  our  felues  addreffe, 

Attempting  on  the  fodaine  JMunJlcr  Towne : 

Let  cuery  one  be  in  a  readines, 

Kind  Fortune  fmyles :  regard  not  ^vho  doth  frowne : 

At  euery  Church  wee'le  hang  a  Tauerne  figne, 

And  wafli  our  Horfes  feete  in  Rennifli-wine. 



The  Rebels  in  a  furious  rcfolution,  enter  the  Townc  of 

Munfter:  ivJicrc  zvith  infolent proude  audatious 

Spirits,  they  infli£l  mofl  iniurious  wronges 

vpon  the  inhabitants,  taking  greatefl 

glorie  in  acling  z'iilajiie. 

With  defp'rat  Refolution,  mad-brainc  heat, 
Munfter  they  enter  like  to  fauage  Beares : 
The  Cittizens  no  fauour  could  entreat, 
For  all  their  goods  are  common,  Leyden  fweares 
Catch  that  catch  may;  hee  bids  his  Souldiers  fhare, 
Deuide  the  fpoyle,  and  take  no  further  care. 

Freely  fupply  your  wants,  who  euer  lackes : 
Chearely  my  harts ;  eate,  drinke,  and  domineere, 
Ryfell  the  rich  and  wealthy  Marchants  packes : 
Make  all  things  cheape  that  heeretofore  were  deere : 
And  where  you  finde  an  Vfurer,  be  bold 
To  cut  his  throat,  and  take  away  his  gold. 





Adornc  }-our  fclucs  in  princely  braue  attire, 

Put  downe  with  State  the  Emperours  of  Roonie : 

And  giuc  the  foohfli  world  caufe  to  admire, 

And  fa}-,  wee  paffe,  each  bafe  and  common  Groome  : 

Though  fome  of  you  (my  Lords)  came  from  the  Plow, 

Wee'le  make  them  ftoope,  that  haue  difdaind  to  bow. 

Hauc  >'ou  not  heard  that  ScytJiian  Tamberlaine 
Was  earfl:  a  Sheepheard  ere  he  play'd  the  King? 
Firft  oucr  Cattell  hce  began  his  raigne, 
Then  Countries  in  fubie6lion  hee  did  bring: 
And  P'ortuncs  fauours  fo  mayntain'd  his  fide, 
Kings  were  his  Coach-horfe,  when  he  pleaf'd  to  ride. 

Do  3'Ou  not  fee  our  valorous  fucceffe, 
How  eafily  wee  hauc  attayn'd  this  Towne .'' 
What  thinke  you  then  in  time  wee  fliall  poffeffe, 
When  Greatnes  comes  to  backc  vs  with  renowne.'' 
Why  fure  I  thinke  our  fhares  will  fo  incrcafe, 
That  wee  finall  let  out  Kingdomes  by  the  leafc. 




Fill  Bowles  of  Wine,  and  let  vs  drinke  a  health: 
Carowfe  in  Glaffes  that  arc  fine  foote  deepe : 
You  worthy  members  of  the  Common-wealth, 
Munjlcr  is  ours,  and  M?uijlcr  wee  will  keepe : 
Boone-fier  the  ftreets ;  fet  Bells  a  worke  to  ring 
For  ioy  a  Taylour  is  become  a  King. 

Bring  foorth  all  Pris'ners  prefently  to  nice, 
And  let  the  Magiftrates  fupply  their  place; 
Frifons  for  true-men  now  fhall  only  bee: 
Brauc  Theeues,  with  many  fauours  wee  will  grace, 
Such  men  as  they,  with  courage  do  proceed, 
And  of  their  feruice  wee  fliall  ftand  in  need. 

For  Theeues  (you  know)  of  feare  make  no  account, 

They'Ie  hazard  hanging,  for  a  little  gaine: 

And  though  vnto  the  Gallowes  top  they  mount. 

Both  Halter  and  the  Hang-man  they  disdaine, 

How  many  die  at  Tyburne  in  a  yeere.-' 

Would  make  vs  gallant  Souldiers,  were  they  hecre. 




lie  tell  ycc  Pvlaifters,  I  haue  knowne  men  die, 
That  haue  out-brau'd  the  Hang-man  to  his  face: 
Such  as  would  giue  an  Empcroitr  the  lie, 
And  valiant  take  a  Purfe  in  any  place. 
Bid  a  man  ftand  vpon  the  hige-\vay  fide, 
When  he  hath  had  exceeding  hafte  to  ride. 

As  full  of  courage  as  their  skins  could  hold, 
Spending  as  franckly  as  they  freely  got : 
Scowring  the  rufl  from  Siluer  and  from  Gold, 
That  Mifers  hoorded  vp  and  vfed  not : 
As  honeft  men  as  wee,  in  all  their  dealing. 
And  yet  are  hang'd  for  nothing  but  for  ftealing. 

Example  to  you  of  a  friend  He  make. 
And  I  befecch  you  all,  to  note  the  thing : 
Who  being  to  be  married,  went  and  fpake 
Vnto  a  Goldfmith  for  a  wedding  Ring, 
And  comming  for  it  when  he  fliould  be  wed, 
The  dorcs  were  fliut,  and  e'r>^  one  abed : 




Hee  had  no  reafon  ftand  and  knocke  all  day, 
But  brake  the  windowes  open,  in  a  ieft, 
Taking  all  Rings  he  found,  with  him  away, 
To  chufe  his  owne  the  better,  from  the  reft : 
Meaning  to  put  the  Gold-fmith  but  in  feare. 
In  making  him  fuppofe  fome  Theefe  were  there. 

Well,  this  poore  fellow  hee  was  apprehended. 
Brought  to  the  Barr,  and  as  a  Fellon  try'd, 
And  yet  you  fee  hee  ieftingly  offended, 
Hauing  good  reafon  for  it  on  his  fyde : 
But  all  his  proteftations  were  in  vaine, 
For  he  was  hang'd  in  earneft  for  his  paine. 

Another  honeft  fellow  as  hee  went, 

Did  draw  a  Halter  after  him  along, 

Thinking  no  hurt,  nor  hauing  an  intent 

To  offer  any  kind  of  creature  wrong: 

One  comes  behind  him  was  the  Hang-mans  frend, 

And  tvde  a  Horfc  vnto  the  Halters  end. 




The  owner  met  him  leading  of  his  beaft, 
And  charged  him  with  fellony  (poore  man) 
Although  in  this  fame  matter  he  knew  leafl, 
There  is  no  rcmedie,  fay  what  he  can 
To  prifon,  hang  him  for  an  arrant  thiefe. 
How  fay  my  maifters  is  not  this  a  griefe? 

But  wee'le  take  order  for  fuch  matters  now, 
For  theeucs  and  Gentlemen  fliall  be  all  one, 
To  take  a  purfc,  or  horfe,  we  will  allow, 
And  let  him  boldly  do  it  that  hath  none: 
Take  any  thing  that  any  man  fliall  lacke, 
To  fill  the  belly  and  to  cloth  the  backe. 

If  any  finde  himfelfc  herewith  agreeued, 
Let  him  be  whipt  and  banifht  forth  the  townc, 
With  rich  mens  goods  w^e  meanc  to  haue  releeued 
The  very  pooreft  meane  and  bafeft  clowne, 
Weele  haue  it  fo  my  Lords,  it  fliall  be  thus. 
Lets  fee  who  dare  but  ftand  on  tearmes  with  vs. 




Tqvi  ]\Iyntcr,  prethc  fearcli  the  towne  with  fpeed, 
Chufe  out  the  fayreft  of  the  female  kinde, 
Some  luftie  wenches  of  the  Germane  breedc, 
For  to  the  flefli  I  feel  my  felfe  inclinde : 
Some  halfe  a  dofen  wiues  for  me  prouide, 
And  flocke  me  with  fome  Concubines  befide. 

Go  to  the  Goldfmithes  in  my  princely  name, 
Will  and  commaund  them  prefently  forthwith 
They  fend  fuch  chaynes  and  Jewels  as  I  clayme 
By  K nipper dcillings  mouth,  my  Lord  the  Smith, 
Without  demaunding  any  thing  therefore, 
I  neither  meane  to  pay,  nor  go  on  fcore. 

Let  others  to  the  iNIercers  fliops  repayre, 
And  tell  them  we  do  filke  and  veluet  lacke, 
Our  feame-rent  Souldiers  are  exceeding  bare, 
Scant  any  tatters  hanging  on  their  backe. 
Rich  Taffata  and  Veluet  of  three  pile, 
Muft  ferue  our  vfe  to  fwagger  in  a  while. 




Commaund  the  Marchants  to  fupply  our  Court 
With  all  abundance  of  the  choyfeft  Wine : 
Vnto  the  Butchers  likewife  make  refort, 
Bid  them  prouid  vs  Oxen,  Sheepe,  and  Swine : 
Charge  Brewers  to  prefent  vs  with  their  trade, 
And  that  their  Beere  be  fomewhat  ftronger  made. 

The  Baker  in  his  office  to  appeere, 
His  Mealy-worfhip  wee  do  greatly  want: 
And  ftore  of  Cookes  let  vs  haue  likewife  heere, 
To  dreffe  our  difhes,  that  they  be  not  fcant : 
All  things  in  plentic,  and  abundant  ftore, 
Bee  merry,  eatc,  and  drinke,  and  call  for  more. 

This  for  a  Refolution  wee  fct  downe, 
And  do  ordaine  that  it  continue  ftill : 
All  is  our  owne  that  is  within  the  Towne, 
And  wee  are  men  that  haue  the  world  at  will : 
Fill  Bowles  of  Wine,  carowfe  a  High-Dutch  round, 
For  Cares  lye  conquerd,  and  our  loyes  are  croun'd. 



Munfler  being  befciged  by  tJic  Duke  of  Saxonic,  the  Rebels 
indiwe  great  injffcrie,  and  extremitie  by  famiJJiment ;  but 
conjirained  in  the  cud  to  yeelde:   their  principall 
Captaines  Leyden,  Knipperdulling,  and  Myn- 
ter,  arc  tortnr'd  and  put  to  death,  for  exam- 
ple to  all  of  Rebellious  damned  difpofi- 
iion,  ending  as  defperatc,  as  their 
Hues  zvere  diuelifli. 

AMbitions  wheele,  which  Traytors  do  afpire, 
Hath  brought  the  Rebels  to  their  altitude : 
And  now  declining,  downe-Avard  they  retire, 
By  iuft  Reuenge  a  downe-fall  to  conclude, 
From  top  of  Treafon,  thus  they  turne  about : 
For  now  behold,  their  curfed  date  run  out. 

The  Martiall  Dtike  layd  feige  vnto  them  now, 

Preuenting  them  of  needfull  wants  fupply. 

With  Hungers  fharpeft  fword,  to  make  them  bow 

No  expeftation  but  refolue  to  dye, 

Their  length  of  life  was  meafur'd  by  their  ftore, 

Which  could  not  be  enlarg'd  a  crum  the  more. 





Yet  moft  cxtreame  hard  cruell  fliift  they  made, 

Holding  the  towne  befieg'd  aboue  a  ycere, 

In  which  fliarpe  time  their  paunches  were  betraide 

Of  all  their  former  feaftes  and  belly  cheere, 

For  each  man's  ftomack  deem'd  his  throat  was  cut, 

There  was  fuch  cmptineffe  in  ery  gut. 

When  wholefome  foode  was  all  confumde  and  gone, 

After  a  hard  allowance  they  had  paft, 

Horfes  and  Dogges  they  lickt  their  lips  vpon, 

Then  Rats  and  Mife  grew  dalntie  meate  at  laft, 

Olde  fliooes  they  boyld,  which  made  good  broth  befide, 

Bufifc-lcthcr  lerkins  cut  in  Steakes  they  fride. 

Not  an  olde  payre  of  Bootes  did  walkc  the  ftrcete, 
Their  bellies  could  not  fpare  their  legs  the  lether. 
But  ftew'd  they  were,  and  hunger  made  them  fweete, 
For  with  that  fauce  they  fhar'd  alike  together. 
Couers  of  Bookes  were  in  like  maner  dreft. 
And  happie  he  was  fuch  a  diflies  gheft. 




The  Chaundlers  crawling  tallow  vtt'red  well, 

It  feru'd  Hans  Leydcn  and  his  Lords  owne  table, 

There  was  no  fault  found  with  the  tafte  nor  fmell, 

Their  onely  griefe  was  this,  they  were  not  able 

To  maintaine  that  good  cheerc,  which  grew  fo  fcant. 

Of  filthie  kitchin  ftuffe  they  found  great  want. 

When  they  had  eaten  vp  the  Chaundlers  trade, 
As  likewife  all  the  ware  Shoomakers  had, 
The  Scriueners  fhops  for  parchment  they  inuade, 
And  feize  vpon  it  euen  hunger  mad, 
Cancelling  with  their  teeth  both  bond  and  bill, 
Looke  after  debts  and  pay  them  he  that  will. 

In  thefe  extreames  (quoth  Leydcn  to  the  reft) 
What  fhall  we  doe  in  this  accurfed  cafe  ? 
Aduife  me  no^y  Tom  Mynter  what  were  beft, 
What's  to  be  done  in  this  fame  hungry  place  i* 
Speake  Knippcrdidliug  lets  haue  thy  aduice, 
There's  no  prouifion  left  of  Rats  and  Mice. 




Why,  fire  the  Towne,  as  late  I  did  my  Forge, 
(Quoth  K  nipper  dulling)  I  do  thinke  it  mectc, 
Leaft  Saxon  imitate  Englifh  Saint  George, 
And  trample  vs  like  Dragons  vndcr  fecte: 
Like  Troy,  let  flame  and  fmoake  afcend  the  skyes, 
Wee  burne  like  Phcnix,  that  in  fier  dyes. 

Or  let  vs  on  a  fodaine  iffue  out. 

And  rufli  vpon  thofe  rafcals  keepe  vs  in : 

Mofl:  defperat  in  that  wee  go  about, 

As  not  refpe6ling  if  wee  lofe  or  win : 

Be  as  it  will,  wee  haue  but  Hues  to  fpend, 

A  pufife  of  breath,  and  thercwithall  an  end. 

In  this  eftate  defpayring  of  their  Hues, 
lohn  Leyden  plots  in  his  fantaftiquc  hed, 
To  fend  out  of  the  Towne  one  of  his  Wiues 
Vnto  the  Duke,  to  tell  him  fliee  is  fled 
From  thofe  accurfed  Rebels,  to  his  grace. 
To  fignific  the  Citties  wcakcft  place. 




Thou  mufl  (quoth  hee)  play  luditJis  part  for  all, 

And  free  vs  from  this  fame  Afsirian  hoft : 

Bring  Holofcnics  head  vnto  the  wall, 

That  thus  againft  Bcthnlia  doth  boft  : 

I  had  a  Vifion  did  appeare  to  mee, 

Which  fignified  thou  fhould'ft  our  ludith  bee. 

And  by  thy  meanes  deliueraunce  procure, 
Sauing  our  Hues,  to  thy  immortall  prayfe : 
Then  holy  woman,  put  this  worke  in  vTe, 
Thou  feeft  \ve  die,  if  wee  indure  delayes : 
Thou  haft  rare  beautie,  on  with  rich  attire, 
And  good  fucceffe  incline  to  thy  defire. 

This  filly  Woman  eafily  deluded, 
Prepares  her  felfe  vnto  the  enterprife : 
Departs  the  Towne  as  Leyden  had  concluded, 
Vnto  the  Di^ke,  attyred  in  difguife, 
As  if  fhee  had  by  fecret  made  efcape. 
Taking  on  her  an  Hipocrites  true  fhape. 




Deliuers  all  the  cunning  (lie  was  taught, 

To  gainc  her  credit,  and  to  free  fufpe6l. 

The  Duke  mifdoubts  her  pra6lize  to  be  nought, 

And  by  examination  findes  direct 

The  plot,  and  all  the  drift  why  fliee  was  fcnt, 

And  thus  to  worke  with  this  falfe  ludith  Avent. 

A  Scafibld  was  erefled  in  the  fight 
Of  all  the  Rebels,  that  they  might  perceiue 
Their  Gentlewoman  playd  not  ludith  right : 
Becaufe  her  head  behind  her  fhe  did  leauc : 
"  For  Treafon  neuer  is  fo  well  contriu'd, 
"  But  flill  the  plotter  is  the  fliorteft  liu'd. 

Then  did  the  Duke  affault  them  ver}'  ftrong, 

Who  being  Aveake,  vnable  to  refift, 

Tir'd  out  with  Famine  they  endured  long, 

And  did  fubdue  them  euen  as  he  lift : 

Such  leane  Anotaniics  they  feemed  all, 

Like  thofe  dry  bones  in  the  Chirurgeons  hall. 



OF    lOHN    LEYDEN. 

And  heere  ends  LE  YDENS  kingdome  and  his  raigne, 

His  counterfayted  tytle's  out  of  date, 

Hee  is  loJin  Lcydcn  Taylor  now  againe: 

And  thofe  that  were  his  Noble-men  of  late, 

Are  eu'en  reftored  to  their  firft  degree, 

Smyth,  Clarke,  and  loyner,  arrant  Knaues  all  three. 

To  their  deferued  deaths  they  are  appoynted, 

For  all  their  villanies,  and  extreame  wrongs : 

Drawne  through  the  Cittie  ftreets,  and  then  disioynted, 

Their  flefli  torne  from  the  bones  with  fieiy  tongs : 

And  as  their  hues  did  to  all  mifcheife  tend, 

So  did  the  defp'rat  vnrepentant  end. 

Being  dead,  there  were  three  Iron  Cages  made 
For  ftrength  and  fubftaunce  to  endure  and  laft, 
And  into  them  their  bodyes  were  conueyd, 
And  on  the  Citties  higheft  Steeple  plafl, 
Lcydai  hung  higheft,  to  expreffe  his  pride, 
Myntcr,  and  KnipperduUing,  on  each  fide. 





The  like  reward,  be  like  offenders  due. 
Let  Traytors  ends  be  violent,  and  euill : 
And  as  thefe  paft,  fo  all  that  fliall  cnfue, 
Let  them  receiue  their  wages  from  the  Deuill : 
Hee  fets  a  worke,  and  ftirres  them  to  afpire, 
And  is  to  pay  them  vengeauncc  for  their  hire. 




Terrible  Battell  be- 

tweene  the  two  confumers 

of  the  whole  World: 
Time,  and  Death. 

By  Samuell  Rowlands. 

Printed  at  London  for  lohn  Deane,  and  are  to  be  fold  at  his 
fhop  at  Temple  barre  vnder 





the     wife    and     well    accomplifht 
Gen^:    M.    George    Gaywood, 

health  and  happineffe. 

I R,  the  great  and  good  report  wJdchmy  beloiied 
friend  {the  hearer  Jiereof)  hath  giuen  of  yon,  hath 
made  me  more  then  halfe  in  lotie  tvithyon,  which 
makes  me  thinke  in  fofnefort  (as  the  rude  and  ru- 
sticke plirafe  is)  to  f cratch  acquaintance  ofyouMut 
fir  helecue  it  to  be  thus,foryoufJiallfinde  itfo,  that 
this  isnot  doncof purpofc  todraiifrojuyou  ajiy  bounty  or  reivarde  to 
me,  for  my  Penne  neuer  zuas,  nor  iieuerfJialbe,  {God faying Ainen,) 
Mercinar'ie:  but  to  let  you  knozu  that  the  bringer  hereof  ivho  doth  ac- 
knozuledge  Jiimfelfe  to  be  more  indebted  toyoit  then  hispoore  cfiate  or 
deie6led  life  can  make  fat  isfacl  ion  for)  JiatJifomc friends,  that  willin 
haitefJieivedtohim.  Thisvnfpeakablc  loueandkindncffcof yours  ex- 
tended to  him,  hathmademe  to  dedicate  thisfillieivorkvntoyou,zuhich 
bythegenerallreportofyourworthincffe,  I  thinke  vnworthie your  ac- 
ceptance. Butifitpleafeyoutocallbackagaincfomeofthelouewhich 
toyou,  hutasagratulationfromvieforhim,then  I  make  no  doubt  but 
youwillacccptitfor  his  fake,  ifnot,yetflillIiuillreflyourfriende  and 
Wel-willer,  made  fo  by  my  friends  report. 

.S     .R 

A  blotidy  Battell  betwixt 
Ti7ne  and  Death. 

Read  potent  Monfber,  mighty  fro  thy  birth,  rp. 
Gyant  of  ftrength,  againft  al  mortal  power, 
Gods  great  Earle  MarJIiall  onox  al  the  earth : 
y| Taking  account  of  each  mans  dying  houre, 

Landlord  of  Graues,  and  Toombs  of  Marble  flones, 

Lo}'d  Treafiirer  of  rotten  dead-mens  bones. 

Viflorious  confort,  Slautering  Caualier, 
Mated  with  me,  to  combat  all  aliue, 
Know  worthy  Champion,  I  haue  met  thee  here. 
Only  to  vnderftand  how  matters  thriue: 
As  our  affayres  alike  in  nature  be, 
So  let  vs  loue,  conferre,  and  kind  agree. 
A  3 


A  bloiidy  Battell 

Great  Regefter  of  all  things  vnder  Sunne, 
Gods  fpeedy  poaft,  that  euer  runs  and  flyes, 
Ender  of  all  that  euer  was  begun, 
That  haft  the  Mappe  of  life  before  thine  eyes : 
And  of  all  Creatures  fince  the  worlds  creation, 
Haft  feene  the  finall  dufty  confumation. 

Death.  Let  me  entreat  thee  pardon  me  a  while, 
Becaufe  my  bufmeffe  now  is  very  great, 
I  muft  go  trauayle  many  a  thoufand  mile, 
To  looke  with  care  that  Wormes  do  lacke  no  meat : 
Theres  many  crawling  feeders  I  maintaine, 
I  may  not  let  thofe  Cannibals  complaine. 

I  muft  fend  murtherers  with  fpeed  to  Hell, 
That  there  with  horror  they  may  make  abode, 
I  muft  fliew  Atheyfts  where  the  Deuils  dwell. 
To  let  them  feele  there  is  a  powerfull  God : 
I  muft  invyte  the  Glutton  and  the  Lyer, 
Vnto  a  banquet  made  of  flambes  of  fire. 

betweene  Time  and  Death. 

I  muft  bring  Pride  where  Fafliions  are  inuented, 

[You  ydle  headed  Women,  quake  and  feare] 

Your  toyifh  fooleries  will  be  preuented, 

A  fhute  of  crawling  Serpents  you  fhall  weare : 

You  that  endeuor  onely  to  go  braue, 

What  Hel  afifoords,  you  fhal  be  fure  to  haue. 

I  haue  the  fwagring  Ruffian  to  difpatch, 
That  moth  and  canker  of  the  common  wealth, 
The  graceles  Theefe,  that  on  the  pray  doth  watch, 
The  dronkard  a  carroAvfmg  of  his  health : 
And  of  all  fniners  fuch  a  damned  rowt. 
As  full  of  worke  as  Death  can  ftir  about. 

This  lawfull  buf'nes  I  do  well  allow.  Time. 

But  in  my  abfence  how  wilt  thou  proceeded 

I  muft  be  prefent  too  as  well  as  thou. 

Before  Time  come  thou  canft  not  doe  the  deed" 

My  Sythe  cuts  downe ;  vpon  thy  dart  they  die, 

Thou  haft  an  houre  glaffe,  and  fo  haue  I. 

B  Looke 

A  blottdy  Bat  tell 

Looke  my  kinde  Death,  here  is  fome  fand  to  run, 

[What  do  I  bid  thee  look  that  haft  no  eies] 

Let's  fuffer  their  laft  minute  to  be  don, 

Some  man  repents  the  inftant  when  he  dies: 

As  one  example  I  remember  chiefe. 

Of  him  that  died  a  Saint,  and  liu'd  a  Theefe. 

Death  Thou  fpeak'ft  it  true,  that  penitent  indeede 
Had  neuer  happy  houre  till  his  laft, 
But  of  like  fecond  fmner  who  can  readf 
From  fuch  a  hellifh  life  to  heauen  paft, 
But  one,  to  keepe  pore  fmners  from  difpaire, 
And  from  prefumption,  one,  and  he  moft  rare. 

Thou  knowft  all  flefli  that  is  of  woman  borne, 

Corruptly  vnto  fm  giues  full  confent, 

Seruing  the  Diuell  with  the  fineft  corne, 

Their  pleafure,  youth,  and  ftrength,  on  him  is  fpent: 

And  when  the  night  of  age  brings  painfull  grones, 

Then  in  Gods  difh  they  caft  their  rotten  bones. 


betweene  Time  and  Death. 

Who  would  not  cenfure  him  a  fooHfh  man, 
To  loyter  out  the  fpring  and  fommer  tide? 
And  when  another  reapes,  make  feede  time  than 
Expe6ling  what  the  feafon  had  deni'de, 
Yet  fuch  bad  husbands  hell  affourds  good-cheap 
Will  vndertake  to  fow,  when  others  reape. 

Some  make  my  pi6lure  a  mofl  common  thing, 
As  if  I  were  continual  in  their  thought, 
A  Deaths  hed  feale  vpon  a  great  gold  ring, 
And  round  about  Memento  Mori  wrought : 
Which  memory  with  gold  cannot  agree. 
For  he  that  hates  the  fame  beft  thinks  on  me. 

I  onely  am  a  welcome  frend  to  fuch 

As  know  by  me  they  enter  vnto  reft, 

And  that  no  fecond  death  their  foules  can  touch, 

The  peace  of  confcience  harbors  in  their  breft. 

And  with  the  diuell,  flefh  and  world,  ftill  ftriue, 

Vntill  at  Canaan  they  doe  ariue. 

B      2  But 


A  bloitdy  Battell 

But  Time  for  tother  thou  flialt  witneffe  be, 
How  moft  vnwilHng  thofe  fame  wretches  die, 
Their  ends  thou  daily  doeft  behold  and  fee, 
And  can'ft  enforme  the  world  I  do  not  lie, 
With  horror,  griefe,  and  anguifli  difcontented. 
In  foule,  and  body,  furioufly  tormented. 

Time  Surely  they  are,  their  ftates  cannot  be  told, 
We  apprehend  but  outward  things  in  fight, 
Moft  fearefull  are  thofe  obie6ls  to  behold. 
That  curfe  their  birth  and  time  they  faw  the  light ; 
Sinne  hath  no  falue  but  mercy,  that  they  craue-not, 
Repentance,  findeth  grace,  and  that  they  haue-not. 

Death  I  came  to  kill  a  Vfurer  of  late, 

And  ftaying  by  his  bed  a  while  for  thee. 
His  fpeech  was  all  of  mony-bags  and  plate, 
But  not  a  word  of  God :  nor  thought  of  me : 
Quicke,  fetch  a  fcriuener,  let  a  bil  be  drawne, 
Sirrha,  your  day  is  broke,  ile  keepe  your  pawne. 


betwixt  Time  and  Death. 

Intreat  me  not :  you  fhould  haue  kept  time  better, 
Thou  fhalt  buy  wit,  a  foole  muft  feele  the  fmart, 
Get  me  a  Seriant,  to  areft  a  debter, 
And  with  that  word,  my  mace  went  through  his  heart, 
Thus  died  the  wretch,  Avith  Mony,  Bond,  and  Bill, 
And  if  God  haue  him,  t'was  againft  his  will. 

When  this  bad  fellowes  date  was  thus  croft  out, 

I  do  remember  we  came  to  a  place 

Where  laye  a  Dines  groning  of  the  gowte, 

Crying  Lord,  Lord,  methought  he  ment  for  grace. 

Vntill  I  heard  the  burden  of  his  fong. 

Was,  Lord  where  may  this  Tiodior  Jiay  fo  long. 

Sir  (quoth  his  wife)  twere  good  haue  a  Diuine; 

Thou  art  a  foole  (faid  he)  I  need  him  not, 

I  haue  a  hart  as  perfe6l  founde  as  thine. 

What  is  there  not  a  Do6lor  to  be  got? 

A  Do6lor  with  al  expedition  wife. 

My  legges  wil  make  me  weary  of  my  life. 

B     s  This 

A  blotidy  Battell 

rr,-      This  mifers  anfwere  I  hauc  noted  frend, 

In  ficknes  men  on  Do6lors  moft  relie 

Vnto  Apothicaries  fhops  they  fend 

Till  phificke  giues  them  ouer,  they  mufl  die.- 

And  when  they  fee  there  is  no  way  but  one, 

Fetch  a  Diuine,  God  fhal  be  thought  vpon. 

Death  T'is  true  indeede,  but  weele  giue  pill  and  potion 
To  fuch  as  whole  on  outward  meanes  depend, 
And  come  to  god  for  want,  more  then  deuotion. 
As  forc'd  vnto  it  at  their  helples  end, 
For  ere  the  do6lor  could  a  drinke  prouide 
I  flab'd  my  dart,  thus  deepe  into  his  fide. 

Death    From  him  thou  know'ft  we  to  a  lawyer  went. 
Time.  Tis  right,  we  found  him  arguing  of  cafes. 
This  is  (quoth  he)  the  very  lawes  intent, 
With  that  the  golden  fees  came  in  by  braces.* 
Wher's  your  inftru6lions,  and  his  declaration.^ 
I  cannot  anfwere  thee,  till  next  vacation. 


betwixt  Time  and  Death. 

Come  thou  in  Tearmc  thy  matter  fhal  be  heard, 
Sir  I  remember'd  you  the  other  day, 
The  bill  you  wot  off,  I  haue  now  preferd, 
With  that  ftept  I  and  faid,  frend  Lawyer  flay: 
An  execution  gainft  your  life  I  haue, 
You  muft  vnto  my  laile,  is  cald  the  Graue. 

Leauing  him  to  the  Sexton  and  the  bels. 
We  came  vnto  a  Marchant  in  this  towne 
That  mighty  bags  of  money  ouer-tels. 
Wrapt  very  orderly  in  his  night  gowne, 
Sirra  (quoth  he)  is  not  the  pofte  come  yetf 
Make  fpeed  and  fumme  me  vp  this  bill  of  debt. 

There  can  no  fhips  come  yet,  He  raife  my  price, 
Oh  that  the  winde  would  hold  but  thus  a  while; 
There  comes  into  my  head  an  odde  deuice, 
The  very  thought  thereof  doth  make  me  fmile; 
Some  fhal  be  fure  to  pay  if  this  geare  hold, 
The  plot  is  pretious,  and  muft  yeeld  me  gold. 


A  bloudy  Battell 

Thus  he  fat  plotting  till  I  fpoild  his  braine, 
With  OJi  I  feele  my  felfe  exceeding  Jicke, 
I  gaue  his  hart  a  gripe,  it  grond  againe, 
By  this,  on  price  of  wares  he  would  not  fticke 
But  lay  a  gafping,  while  the  bell  did  towle, 
And  there  his  body  lies  without  a  foule. 

Next  doore  to  him,  we  found  a  London  dame 

Vpon  her  bed,  with  finger  aking  laide, 

And  there  moft  bitterly  flie  did  exclaime 

Againfl  the  mifdemeanors  of  her  maide, 

Bafe  queane  (quoth  flie)  how  doft  thou  make  me  fret? 

To  fee  my  ruffe  of  that  ilfauord  fet. 

Your  manners  hufwife  you  haue  quite  forgot, 
As  fure  as  death  ile  make  your  ioynts  to  bow, 
Fou  whore,  the  poking  yron  is  too  hot, 
Durft  thou  prefume  to  vex  thy  miftris  now, 
If  I  were  Avell  thou  queane  I  would  not  miffe 
To  had  my  fifts  about  thine  eares  ere  this, 


betweeiie  Time  aiid  Death. 

Let  me  not  rife,  for  if  I  doe ;  no  more : 

Few  wordes  are  beft,  I  thinke  you  will  repent  it, 

He  make  you  feele  your  fides  this  fortnight  fore, 

Except  Death  cro ffe  my  purpofe  and  preuent  it; 

With  that  I  ftept  betweene  to  part  the  Fray, 

The  Mayd  fcapt  blowes,  and  Miftris  brake  her  day. 

A  Muskie-Gentle,  we  did  vifit  then, 

A  Silken  Gallant,  very  curyous  fine. 

That  kept  a  fwaggring  crew  of  Seruingmen, 

Whofe  rapyer-hylts  embrued  with  gold  did  fhine, 

And  for  he  would  from  all  contention  ceafe. 

He  wifely  bound  his  weapons  to  the  Peace. 

One  that  would  fend  his  challenge  to  his  Foe, 
And  braue  him  out  with  paper  in  difgrace. 
But  to  the  fielde,  he  alwaies  fcornd  to  goe, 
For  he  kept  men,  that  would  fupply  the  place : 
He  would  preferue  his  life,  yet  fend  his  Gloue, 
His  perfon  muft  attend  on  Ladies  loue. 

C  Well 



A  bloudy  Battell 

Well  this  fame  figneur  with  the  tender  skin, 

That  dcdicatcth  all  his  dales  and  houres 

To  dauncing,  drunkenneffe,  and  Vemis  finne, 

Neuer  refpe6ling  Time  and  Deaths  fterne  powers 

Was  met  by  me  thinking  his  life  fecure, 

I  killed  the  knaue  to  keepe  my  hand  in  vre. 

Where  went  we  then,  doeft  thou  remember  Time} 
Yes  very  well,  w^e  vifited  a  Poet, 
That  tyrd  inuention  day  and  night  with  rime 
And  ftill  on  Venus  feruice  did  beftow  it : 
Death       Tis  true  indeed  a  Poet  was  the  next, 

With  foolifli  idle  loue  extreamely  vext. 

Time         All  that  he  did  endeuour  to  deuife. 

Was  onely  Vcims  praife,  and  Cupids  power, 
Within  his  head  he  had  a  mint  of  lyes, 
On  truth  he  neuer  fpent,  in's  life  an  houre: 
His  fi6lions  were  to  feed  thofe  in  their  pride. 
Who  take  delight  to  heare  themfclues  belide. 



betweene  Time  a7td  Death, 

For  flaunder,  women  to  haue  vertues  many, 
Admird  their  beauties,  when  they  lack  good  faces, 
Say  they  haue  wit  at  will,  not  feeing  any. 
Tell  them  their  empty  minds  are  full  of  graces : 
Why  then  they  thinke  you  loue  them  paft  compare. 
And  euery  toy  they  weare  becoms  them  rare. 

This  Poet  thus  a  fonneting  we  found, 

Riming  himfelfe  euen  almoft  out  of  breath, 

Ctipid  (quoth  he)  thy  cruell  Dart  doth  wound, 

Oh  graunt  me  loue,  or  elfe  come  gentle  Death: 

I  heard  him  fay,  come  gentle  death  in  left ;  Death 

And  in  good  earneft  graunted  his  requeft. 

Leaue  him  a  rotting,  then  we  march'd  along  Time 

Vnto  a  Godly  reuerent  graue  deuine, 

Whofe  faith  on  CJiriJl  was  grounded  firme  and  ftrong, 

And  all  his  hope  to  heauen  did  he  incline ; 

At  prayer  deuout,  we  found  him  on  his  knees, 

And  with  thefe  words  he  fpake,  his  hart  agrees. 

C  2  The 


A  blotidy  Battell 

The  wounds  that  lESVS  fuffred  for  my  fmne, 
Are  mouthes  that  cry,  O  lone  him  with  thy  Jiart, 
The  thornes  that  pierced  thorow  his  flefh  and  skin, 
Are  tongues,  (pronouncing)  Lone  is  his  defart, 
The  torturing  whips,  that  did  to  anguifli  moue  him, 
Are  Ecchoes  founding.  Wretched  Sinner  loue  him. 

With  Peters  fmnes  in  greatneffe  mine  abound, 
Who  by  his  oathes  and  curffes  CJiriJl  denied. 
And  with  the  woman  in  Adultry  found. 
The  filthineffe  of  finne  in  me  doth  bide: 
With  yiagdalcns  in  multitudes  they  be. 
Her  feauen  Deuils  haue  infe6led  me. 

The  fhame  of  finne  vpon  my  foule  doth  fall, 
That  on  the  wretched  Ptcblicau  did  light, 
The  cruelty  of  fmne  I  haue  with  Paul 
To  profecute  the  holy  and  vpright; 
And  with  the  Theefe,  that  all  his  life  did  ill, 
Vnto  my  graue,  my  fmnes  attend  me  ftill. 



betwixt  Time  and  Death. 

Oh  come  fweet  lefus,  for  thy  feruant  corns, 
I  doe  beleeue,  Lord  helpe  my  vnbeHefe: 
My  debt  of  fmnes  amount  to  mighty  fums, 
Of  Mercies  treafure  onely  thou  art  chiefe : 
Though  fmnes  be  red  as  fcarlet,  yet  I  know, 
Thy  precious  blood  can  wafh  them  white  as  fnow. 

To  be  diffolued,  greatly  I  defire, 

This  world  doth  paffe,  the  things  thereof  are  vaine, 

To  be  with  Clirijl,  I  onely  do  require. 

And  fee  the  Citty  where  his  Saints  do  raigne, 

He  is  my  life,  Death  is  a  gaine  to  me. 

With  that  his  foule  afcends  where  Angels  be. 

A  happy  foule,  one  that  had  learn'd  to  die,  Death 

And  rightly  vnderftood  his  earthly  ftate, 

Whofe  conflant  faith  enfor'cd  the  Deuill  fly. 

That  ftill  affaulteth  men  with  deadly  hate. 

For  thou  know'fl  Time  how  that  fame  hel-hound  ftriues 

About  the  hower  that  men  yeeld  vp  their  Hues. 

C    3  For 


A  bloudy  Battell 

For  in  mans  ficknes  Satha?i  doth  conceiue, 
It  may  be  mortall,  that  difeafe  may  end-him, 
And  therefore  no  temptation  he  will  leaue, 
That  to  eternall  torment  he  may  fend-him: 
Tis  time  (faith  he)  to  do  my  moft  endeuor, 
If  now  I  loofe  his  fowle,  tis  loft  for  euer. 

Firft  then  heele  tempt  him  to  impatient  mind, 
To  grudge  and  to  repine,  at  Gods  corre6tion, 
Whereto  with  paine  and  griefe  he  feemes  inclined, 
But  finding  grace  preuenteth  that  infeftion, 
He  feekes  to  draw  him  to  a  pride  of  hart, 
To  thinke  himfelfe  a  man  of  great  defart. 

And  one  in  whome  perfe6lion  doth  abound, 
That  conftantly  aduerfities  can  beare, 
For  his  good  workes  deferuing  to  be  crownd, 
And  that  of  fin  he  need  not  ftand  in  feare : 
If  this  cannot  his  fowle  for  hell  prepare, 
He  labors  then  to  driue  him  to  defpaire. 



betwixt  Time  and  Death. 

Compares  Gods  iudgements  and  his  fins  together, 
And  bids  his  confcience  looke  vpon  the  law, 
Where  damned  foules  remain,  he  muft  go  thither, 
No  mercy  fuch  a  fmner  euer  faw; 
It  ftands  not  with  Gods  iuftice  for  to  faue-him, 
The  Deuils  come,  and  onely  he  muft  haue-him. 

Thus  plots  that  foe,  and  thus  he  oft  preuailes, 
And  doth  enlarge  his  kingdome  wondrous  thus; 
Millions  of  fowles  go  hel-ward  Avith  thefe  gales, 
When  men  from  memory  do  banifli  vs: 
"  To  count  thee  precious  all  men  haue  great  reafon . 
"  To  thinke  on  me,  is  neuer  out  of  feafon. 

Death,  it  is  true  but  that  fame  monfter  fm,  Time. 

That  brood  of  hell,  that  Deuils  eldeft  childe. 

Which  with  the  fall  oi  Adam  did  begin, 

And  all  his  ofif-fpring  odious  hath  defil'd : 

That  Viper  of  the  foule  doth  ftill  appeare. 

To  all  thofe  finners  entertaine  it  heere. 



A  blotidy  Battell 

Sinne,  the  defpifing  of  Gods  Maiefty, 
And  the  contempt  of  his  Eternall  power, 
The  death  of  Vertue,  Graces  enemy, 
Canker  of  true  felicities  faire  flower. 
The  obfcure  darkenes  of  mans  vnderflanding, 
Rebell  to  all  the  lawes  of  Gods  commanding. 

Sinne,  the  dire6lor  vnto  all  mifhap, 

The  fetters  of  th' eternall  vault  of  hell, 

The  tempters  net  he  vfeth  to  intrap, 

The  price  wherewith  the  Deuils  buy  and  fell, 

The  feed  of  SatJia?i  daily  by  him  fowne 

In  thofe  hard  harts  which  are  become  his  owne. 

Siime,  euerlafting  poifon,  cureleffe  killing, 
The  imitation  of  the  evill  fprites. 
Folly  of  men,  to  which  the  world  runs  willing, 
Pleafing  deftruftion,  fil'd  with  loath'd  delights, 
Soules  peftilence,  from  darke  infe6lions  Den, 
The  caufe  of  all  Gods  plagues  that  light  on  men. 


betweene  Time  and  Death. 

Hath  ouer  man  fuch  rule  and  Empire  got, 
And  generally  on  earth  beares  fuch  a  fway, 
That  ther's  not  one  doth  good  and  fmneth  not, 
The  righteous  falleth  feuen  times  a  day: 
This  is  the  caufe  the  Lyon  roares  about, 
And  heauens  narrow  way,  is  hard  found  out. 

True  time."  Well,  then  we  went  with  expedition  Death 

(Killing  about  fome  hundred  by  the  way) 

Vnto  the  manfion  of  a  rare  phifition, 

That  with  my  fubie6ls  bare  a  mighty  fway, 

Of  ficke,  and  lame,  and  gowty,  ery  fort, 

Gaue  all  of  him  a  wonderfull  report. 

Within  his  hand  he  held  a  vrinall. 
Which  after  he  had  view'd  a  little  fpace, 
This  party  (quoth  he)  very  fhortly  fhall 
Be  perfe6l  well,  and  in  a  healthy  cafe; 
There  is  no  daunger,  do  as  I  haue  wild. 
Yet  that  fame  perfon  I  had  newly  kild. 

D  To 

A  bloicdy  Battell 

To  many  he  gaue  notes,  what  they  fliould  take, 
Some  pill,  fome  potion,  others  mufl  let  blood, 
And  diuers  compounds  fome  with  fpeed  muft  make, 
And  on  his  life  this  phificke  Avould  do  good. 
Quoth  I,  PJiifitian  cure  tJiy  Jelfc  fond  man, 
Thou  dieft  this  howre,  preuent  it  if  thou  can. 

About  this  time  much  worke  I  had  to  do. 
As  wofull  London  did  both  feele  and  fee, 
A  dreadfull  plague  began  fix  hundred  two. 
Which  did  continue  out  fix  hundred  three. 
The  bloody  bufines  I  had  then  in  hand. 
Became  a  terror  vnto  all  the  land. 

Deadly  deftru6lion  was  in  e'ry  ftreet, 

A  daily  mourning  and  a  daily  dying. 

Great  vfe  of  Coffin,  and  of  winding  Sheet, 

From  empty  houfes  many  hundreds  flying: 

Each  faculty,  profeffion,  and  degree, 

Tooke  counfell  with  their  legs  to  run  from  me. 



behueene  Time  afid  Death. 

But  how  they  fped  experience  can  declare, 
How  many  left  their  liues  vpon  the  way, 
Poore  mortals  in  my  hands  are  brittle  ware, 
Like  Vapor,  Buble,  Flower,  wither'd  Hay; 
Where  can  they  run,  but  I  am  ftill  behind-them? 
Where  can  they  Hue  fecure,  but  I  will  find-them? 

The  Cittizens  that  out  of  plague  time,  euer 
Are  entertain'd  with  welcomes  in  all  Townes, 
To  fhun  like  Serpents,  each  man  did  endeuor, 
Amongft  the  rufticke  rude  vnciuill  Clownes, 
The  name  of  Londoner,  that  very  breath, 
Had  power  to  terrific  as  much  as  death. 

Let  him  be  friend  or  kinfman,  what  he  will, 
Maifler,  or  feruant,  husband,  or  the  wife: 
You  muft  keepe  out,  faies  lobfon  with  his  bill, 
The  plagu's  about  him  neighbors  on  my  life: 
Heere  is  no  meat  and  drinke  for  horfe  or  man, 
Starue  if  thou  wilt,  or  get  it  where  thou  can. 

D  2  God 


A  bloudy  Battell 

God  which  detefted  cruelty  feeing  this, 

Gaue  vs  commiffion  ouer  all  the  land, 

That  flefli  and  blood  might  know  the  plague  was  his, 

And  he  had  power  to  ftrike  or  hold  his  hand; 

Then  we  his  officers  to  worke  did  go, 

And  make  the  Country  taft  of  Citties  wo. 

How  could  they  fliun  their  owne  infeflion  now? 

That  held  the  Londoners  contagious  foes. 

What  vertue  can  their  worm-wood  fmels  allow, 

To  charme  the  plague,  for  comming  neare  their  nofe  ? 

Angdlica  is  but  a  rotten  root, 

Hearbe-grace  in  fcorne,  I  trample  vnder-foot. 

Vnicorns  horn's  not  worth  a  marrow-bone, 
Though  men  efteeme  fo  precious  of  the  duft, 
Bugell  is  euen  as  good  as  Beazcr  ftone, 
If  I  but  fay,  Sirrha  away  you  vmji: 
Prepare  thy  fotile,  repent  the  guilt  offm, 
Coffin,  andjliecte,  attend  to  take  thee  in. 


betwixt  Thne  and  Death, 

I  wonder  what  men  thinke  that  daily  fee, 
Their  friends  and  kindered  carried  to  the  graue, 
How  they  can  count  themfekies  fecure  to  be, 
That  not  an  howers  time,  of  life-time  haue; 
That  find  they  are  but  tenants  heere  at  will. 
Yet  liue,  as  they  could  Hue  free-holders  ftill. 

Where's  old  Mcthifelah  that  long  liu'd  man  ? 

Whers's  al  the  fathers  faw  fo  many  dales? 

Their  Hues  were  but  the  length  of  Dauids  fpan, 

A  vapor  that  moft  fodainly  decaies : 

Th'are  borne,  grow  ftrong,  wax  old,  fall  ficke,  and  die, 

So  other  do;  and  others  them  fupply. 

Where's  that  ftrong  man  that  did  fo  many  kill  ? 

And  admirable  things  by  valour  did. 

That  carried  Afah  gates  to  Hebron  hil. 

And  rent  a  Lyon  like  a  tender  Kyd : 

Looke  in  the  graue  where  this  great  man  doth  lie, 

There's  no  ftrength  left,  to  kil  a_^filly  flie, 



A  bloudy  Battell 

Wher's  that  moft  rare  and  comely  fliaped  prince, 
That  would  hauc  puld  his  Father  from  his  throne  f 
Whofe  like  no  age  hath  feene  for  feature  fmce, 
Nor  any  age  before  his  age  had  known : 
Not  a  locke  left  of  all  his  goodly  haire, 
Hundreds  ago,  his  fcull  was  bald,  and  bare. 

Wher's  Hc£lor  gone,  and  Herades  become  ? 
What  newes  with  Pompey  and  Achilles  now? 
Where  marcheth  Alexander  with  his  drum. 
To  Ccefars  fcepter  who  doth  yeeld  or  bow : 
Where  are  thefe  great  and  mighty  conquering  ones, 
Time,  fliew  an  ounce  of  duft  of  all  their  bones. 

Time        Death  preethy  ftay,  let  this  difcourfe  ftand  by, 
And  make  me  anfwere  vnto  one  requeft. 
Some  doubt  and  difference  is  twixt  thee  and  I, 
Which  to  refolue  in  my  conceit  were  befl, 
And  this  it  is;  The  world  exclaimes  on  me. 
For  diuers  a6lions  that  are  done  by  thee. 



betwixt  Time  and  Death, 

If  thou  ftab  children  in  their  mothers  wombe, 

Or  kill  a  king  as  foone  as  he  is  crown'd, 

Or  make  the  bloodie  field  the  Souldiors  tombe, 

Or  in  the  Seas  caufe  thoufands  to  be  drown'd, 

Why  prefentlie  what  will  the  people  fay? 

Their  Time  was  come:   thus  Time  beares  blame  awaie. 

If  this  be  all,  let  it  not  greeue  thy  hart, 
To  heare  thy  felfe  abufed  now  and  then, 
But  ile  reuenge,  I  vow  it  with  my  dart, 
I  marry  wilt  thou,  but  I  preethy  when; 
To  foone  by  many  dales  ile  meet  with  fome, 
If  thou  but  fay,  flrike  for  their  Time  is  come. 



I  thats  another  matter,  now  you  fpeake : 

By  my  glaffe  all  thy  tragedies  are  a6led, 

The  prifon  of  mans  foule  thou  canft  not  breake, 

With  wals  of  flefh  and  blood,  and  bones  compa6led ; 

Nor  giue  the  fame  enlargement  to  go  free. 

Before  my  hand,  to  thy  commiffion  be. 



A  bloudy  Battell 

Thou  knowft  Time  is  Gods  agent  in  affaires, 

And  hath  bin  fo,  euer  fince  the  creation, 

Thou  knowft  he  feateth  MonarcJis  in  their  chairs, 

Admitting  kings  vnto  their  corronation: 

If  long  they  raigne,  Time  giues  their  yeares  the  length, 

If  fhort  they  rule,  Time  cutteth  off  their  ftrength. 

The  ornaments  of  heauen,  fun,  and  Moone, 

With  al  the  glittering  brauery  of  ftars, 

Are  taught  by  me,  their  morning,  night,  and  noone, 

I  order  them,  which  elfe  diforder  mars: 

Their  motions,  reuolutions,  and  afpefls. 

Time  with  his  iuft  proportion,  due  direfts. 

Death  Why  what  a  bragging  and  a  coile  do'ft  keepe  ? 
Beft  take  my  dart,  be  Time,  be  Death  and  al. 
He  into  graues,  and  there  go  lie  and  fleepe, 
And  anfwere  thou  when  Gods  affaires  do  cal : 
Be  Lord  of  Coffin,  Pickaxe,  Sheet,  and  fpade. 
And  do  my  worke,  with  thofe  in  ground  are  laid. 



betweene  Time  and  Death, 

Thou  art  for  kings,  and  thou  doft  this  and  that, 
And  without  thee,  ther's  nothing  to  be  done, 
To  crowne,  depofe,  and  do  I  know  not  what, 
Nay  thou  art  bufie  with  the  Moone  and  Sunne; 
Thou  haft  an  ore  in  e'ry  bodies  boate, 
Vpon  my  confcience  thou  begin'ft  to  dote. 

I  haue  bin  DeatJi  almoft  fix  thoufand  yeares. 
Yet  neuer  heard  thee  vaunt  fo  vaine  before, 
Thou  coun'ft  thy  felfe  my  better  it  appeares. 
But  if  thou  doefl,  thy  aime  is  wide  a  fcore; 
I  tell  thee  Time,  thou  doeft  infence  me  now. 
Knowing  my  felfe  a  better  man  then  thou. 

At  leaft  thy  felfe  knowes  I  am  full  as  good. 
Being  Gods  fteward,  fmnes  reward  to  pay, 
He  that  denies  it  I  will  fee  his  blood. 
Be  he  the  greateft  Monarch  Hues  this  day; 
If  he  were  Ccsfar  of  the  earths  whole  Globe, 
He  make  him  poorer  then  the  Deuill  made  lob. 

E  The 


A  blotidy  Battell 

The  mony-bag  whofe  Idols  in  his  chefl, 
Whofe  Gods  his  gold,  whofe  golds  his  prifoner, 
Whofe  thoughts  are  euer  haunted  with  vnreft, 
And  loues  that  befb,  becomes  his  murderer: 
I  take  him  fodaine  from  huge  heapes  of  treafure, 
The  flaue  was  fcraping  all  his  life  times  leifure. 

Wounds,  hart,  and  blood,  that  wil  not  fell  his  fwearing 
To  him  would  giue  him  forty  pound  a  yeare, 
That  vowes  a  tale  is  dull  and  harfh  in  hearing, 
Vnleffe  by  oaths  the  matter  be  made  cleare : 
Oft  when  the  tempter  chiefely  doth  prouoke-him, 
His  mouth  being  fil'd  with  bitter  oaths,  /  choake  him. 

The  fwaggering  Ruffian  in  his  heady  braules, 
Whofe  hand  is  euer  on  his  ponyard  hilt, 
That  bloody  fraies  his  recreation  cals, 
Chiefely  delighted  with  foule  murders  guilt: 
Whofe  thoughts  are  onely  for  the  ftab  pretence, 
I  haue  a  tricke  for  him  and  all  his  fence. 



betweene  Time  and  Death. 

The  quaintly  futed  Courtier  in  attyre, 
Whofe  lookes  are  fixt  no  lower  then  the  sky, 
Is  croft  by  me,  in  height  of  his  defire. 
And  vnder  ground  I  make  his  carrion  lie: 
He  fcorn'd  the  earth,  and  that  I  make  his  bed, 
Wrapt  in  a  rotten  fheet,  from  foot  to  head. 

And  wherefoeuer,  or  what  ere  he  be, 
For  countenance,  for  credit  and  condition, 
Dignity,  calling,  office,  or  degree, 
Peffant,  or  prince,  patient,  or  els  Phifition: 
Euen  from  the  Crowne  and  fcepter  to  the  plow, 
I  make  all  looke  as  I  my  felfe  do  now. 

Perhaps  thou  think'ft  becaufe  thy  beard  is  gray, 

I  owe  officious  reuerence  to  thine  age, 

And  muft  beleeue  whatfoeuer  thou  fay. 

Applauding  thee  chiefe  a6lor  on  earths  ftage : 

He  neuer  do  it,  Time  expecl  it  not. 

For  at  my  hand  ther's  nothing  to  be  got. 

E       2  But 


A  blottdy  Battell 

But  pre  thee  tell  me,  what  is  he  feares  Timet 
Not  one  vpon  my  life  that  doth  expe£l  thee, 
For  all  the  finful  brood  oi  Adams  flime, 
Do  euery  day,  and  euery  hower  negle6l  thee: 
To  vfe  time  well,  who  is  not  flow  and  flacke? 
But  with  their  euils,  al  men  loade  thy  backe. 

Pyrats  and  theeues  take  Time  to  fit  their  turne, 
Time  muft  affift  them  ere  they  can  preuaile, 
The  fawning  flatterer  doth  Time  fubborne, 
To  give  him  leifure  for  his  lying  tale; 
The  luftfull  Letcher  borrowes  thee  by  night, 
And  makes  Time  pandor  to  his  fmnes  delight. 

The  fcatter  good,  in  Time  confumes  the  wealth, 
That  might  fufl:aine  both  him  and  his  fucceffor, 
The  drunkard  takes  his  Time  to  pledge  a  health 
Till  drinke,  to  wit  and  fence  be  an  oppreffor; 
Nay  not  an  cuill  fince  the  world  begun, 
But  Time  was  acceffary  till  twas  done. 



betwixt  Twie  and  Death. 

Well  preethy  flander  on,  ile  heare  thee  out,  Time. 

And  thy  vntruths,  with  truth  I  will  confute, 

Touching  the  wronging  me,  thou  goeft  about, 

Thou  art  not  able  for  thy  life  difpute: 

Death,  th'art  a  lying  fellow  in  this  cafe, 

I  fcome  thee  I,  for  vfmg  Time  fo  bafe. 

What  (Father  gray-beard,  doth  your  choler  rife  ?  Death 

Can  you  fo  ill  digeft  to  heare  your  crimes  ? 

Why  goodman  bone-face,  with  your  vaulty  eies. 

What  i'ft  to  me  if  men  abufe  their  Times?  Time 

Where  leamd  your  dry  and  empty  pate  the  skil, 

That  Time  fhould  anfwere  for  mens  doings  il. 

Man  is  ordaind  by  th'almighty  maker, 
To  fpend  his  Time  of  earthly  pilgrims  ftate 
So  holy,  that  he  proue  foule  fmnes  forfaker 
And  with  faire  vertue  finifh  out  his  date.* 
I  being  the  Time  and  limmit  for  that  vfe, 
My  il  imployment,  is  the  worlds  abufe? 



A  bloudy  Battell 

What  fimple  reafon  hath  thy  braine  in  llore, 
That  doft  all  fence  fo  vtterly  forget  ? 
Shal  I  be  charg'd  to  anfwere  finners  fcore, 
That  neuer  paft  my  word  to  pay  their  debt: 
Proue  that,  and  let  all  that  is  good  deteft  me, 
Th'art  a  leane  knaue :   Take  ivitnes  and  arejt  me. 

Death  By  my  darts  point,  (I  fwore  not  fo  this  yeare. 

He  fight  with  thee,  next  time  we  meet  in  field, 
Time  Why  if  thou  haft  a  ftomacke  tiy  it  heere, 
I  feare  thee  not,  my  fith  is  newly  fteeld : 
And  take  this  warning  ere  the  fray  begins, 
Looke  to  your  legs,  ile  cracke  thofe  rotten  fhins. 

My  fhins  you  whorfon  vglie  prating  flaue, 
Death  Sirrha  ile  keepe  you  at  the  point  aloofe, 

For  dotard  know  ther's  not  a  bone  I  haue, 
But  tis  compof'd  of  ftufife,  full  cannon  proofe, 
Zaie  on  my  legs  an  houre  by  thy  glaffe, 
Als  one,  to  hew  a  pillar  made  of  braffe. 



betwixt  Time  and  Death. 

Peace  bragging  foole,  I  laugh  thy  vaunts  to  fcorne,         Titne. 

Thy  tongue  incHnes  to  much  vnto  thy  lying, 

Feare  children  with  thy  force  but  newly  borne, 

And  terrific  the  ficke  that  lie  a  dying: 

I  know  the  houre  when  God  did  firft  begin  thee. 

Thy  mold  and  making,  and  how  much  is  in  thee. 

Thy  office  is  to  murder  and  to  kill, 

Stabbing  of  men,  is  folace  to  thy  hart, 

Tho  goeft  about  and  carriefl  with  thee  ftil, 

A  Spade,  and  Pickaxe,  Hower-glaffe,  and  Dart: 

With  one  toole,  thou  doft  giue  a  cowards  wound 

Vnfeene,  and  with  tother  turne  men  vnder  ground. 

Thou  lookeft  like  the  infide  of  a  tombe, 

All  rotten  bones,  with  fmnews  bound  togither, 

Thy  guts  are  gone,  for  they  lacke  belly  roome, 

And  al  thy  flefh  is  lighter  then  a  feather.- 

Thy  head  is  like  an  empty  drie  oile  iarre. 

Where  neather  teeth,  nor  nofe,  nor  eies  there  are. 



A  bloudy  Battell 

From  eare  to  eare  thou  haft  a  mouth  vnfliut, 
With  armes  and  hands  like  to  a  Gardners  rake, 
Thy  ribs  fhew  like  a  leather  lerkin  cut, 
Thy  voice  refembles  hiffmg  of  a  fnake : 
Thy  legs  appeare  a  paire  of  Crane-ftilts  right, 
And  al  thy  formes  more  vgly  then  a  fprite. 

Thy  pi6lure  ftands  vpon  the  Ale-houfe  wall, 
Not  in  the  credit  of  an  ancient  ftory, 
But  when  the  old  wiues  guefts  begin  to  braule, 
She  points,  and  bids  them  read  Memento  mori: 
Looke,  looke  (faies  fhe)  what  fellow  ftandeth  there. 
As  women  do,  when  crying  Babes  they  feare. 

No  memory  of  worth  to  thee  belongs. 
To  call  thee  famous  is  condemned  error, 
And  though  fometime  th'art  baletted  in  fongs. 
Thy  names  imploide  vnto  no  vfe  but  terror. 
Thy  companie  both  rich  and  poore  defie, 
Zoathfome  to  eare,  moft  vgly  to  the  eie. 




betweene  Time  and  Death, 

Time,  I  perceiue  thou  art  difpof'd  to  raile, 
So  am  not  I,  my  head  is  not  fo  vaine, 
Thy  tearmes  are  very  bafe,  moft  fcuriiy  ftale, 
And  th'art  a  teftie  old  foole,  for  thy  paine : 
What  needfl:  thou  vfe  this  fpeeches  vnto  me, 
A  man  fo  hanfome  thou  wilt  neuer  be. 

Beft  fhapen  forme,  by  natures  powerfulneffe, 

And  fweeteft  face  on  which  loues  eies  do  fawn, 

The  chiefeft  ftature,  praif'd  for  comlineffe. 

Are  but  my  pifture  when  the  Curtaines  drawne :  X 

Remoue  the  veile  of  flefh  and  blood  away, 

Tis  Death's  true  pi6lure  all  the  world  wil  fay. 

But  what  art  thou,  a  foule  mifhapen  monfter. 
Behind  all  bald,  a  locke  elle  long  before, 
With  clouen  feet,  whereby  a  man  may  confter, 
Caron  from  hell  hath  brought  thee  late  a  fhore, 
Which  if  he  did,  thy  fwiftnes  doth  declare, 
Thou  ranft  away  and  neuer  paid  his  fare. 

F  A6lcBons 


A  bloudy  Battell 

AclcEons  feet,  (I  would  thou  hads  his  homes) 

Wing'd  Hke  an  Owle,  a  Cat  hath  lent  thee  eies; 

A  fugitiue  that  neuer  backe  returnes, 

One  that  will  run  with  Titans  horfe  in  skies : 

Neuer  to  be  intreated,  ftopt,  or  ftaid, 

For  whom  repofe  and  reft  was  neuer  made. 

And  doft  thou  thinke  ile  pocket  vp  difgrace, 

Of  fuch  a  paltry  rufticke  peafant  boore, 

Nay  rather  I  defie  thee  to  thy  face, 

Thou  knowft  me  honeft,  though  thou  knowft  me  poor: 

I  care  for  no  man,  all  that  Hue  feare  me, 

A  figge  for  the  whole  world.  A  ruJJifor  thee. 

Time  Well  art  thou  now  reueng'd.-*  preethy  hauc  done.'' 
Thou  ftriu'ft  to  haue  the  laft  word  I  dare  fweare  it, 

Death  Why  fliould  I  not  as  long  as  you  begun, 

Fie,  fie,  I  am  afham'd  that  any  man  fliould  heare  it: 

Time.  For  were  it  knowne,  we  two  were  at  contention, 

Tne  world  would  laugh,  and  terme  it  Mad  difcention. 



betweene  Tivie  and  Death, 

Giue  me  thy  hand,  imbrace,  let  choler  paffe:  Death 

For  my  part  I  do  beare  thee  no  ill-will, 

Take  heed  (good  Death)  thy  bones  will  crack  my  glaffe.  Time 

I  would  be  loath  to  do  thee  fo  much  ill,-  Death. 

Lay  downe  thy  fith,  as  I  lay  downe  my  dart: 

Shake  hands,  and  fo  be  friends  before  we  part. 

Where  goeft  thou  now.  Marry  harke  in  thine  eare :         Death 
I  haue  a  Lady  prefently  to  kill.- 
One  thats  at  dice,  and  doth  no  daunger  feare? 
But  haue  at  al  fhe  faies,  come  fet  me  ftil; 
She  is  at  paffage,  paffmg  found  and  wel. 
And  little  thinketh  on  the  paffmg-bel. 

And  then  I  go  to  baile  an  honefl  man. 

Lies  in  the  Counter  for  a  little  debt, 

Whom's  creditor  in  moft  extreames  he  can 

Doth  deale  withal,  now  he  is  in  the  net; 

He  fweares  heele  keepe  him  there  this  dozen  yeare, 

Yet  the  knaue  lies,  this  night  ile  fet  him  cleare. 

F     2  And 


A  blotidy  Batiell 

And  then  Igo  to  fee  two  fellowes  fight, 
(With  whome  there  is  no  reafon  to  be  had) 
About  a  cup  of  wine  they  dranke  laft  night, 
One  fwore  twas  good,  and  tother  vowd  twas  bad ; 
He  giue  one  that,  no  Chirurgeon's  Hke  to  heale, 
And  with  the  tother  let  the  hangman  deale. 

And  hundreds  more,  come  Tivic  with  fpeed  along, 
About  our  bufmes  we  haue  fbood  heere  now: 
Till  Prieft,  and  Clarke,  and  Sexton  haue  the  wrong, 
More  dead  worke  for  their  profit  lets  alow : 
My  dart  is  dry,  ther's  no  frefli  blood  thereon. 
We  fuffer  ficke  to  ly  too  long  and  grone. 

Harke  a  monjlrous  rich  fellow  a  Cittizen. 

Time.  Weele  take  him  with  vs  euen  in  the  way, 
(Preethy  be  thou  a  quiet  man  a  while) 
Some  hower,  by  my  glaffe  he  hath  to  ftay, 
Before  the  date  be  come  of  his  exile; 
And  then  in  fuch  a  hole  he  fhal  be  plac'ft. 
He  is  not  like  be  feene  againe  in  haft. 



betwixt  Time  and  Death, 

The  villains  rich,  exceeding  rich  indeed, 
And  loues  a  bag  of  gold  moft  dearely  well, 
His  wife  is  of  a  proud  and  dainty  breed, 
And  for  imbrafmg  fafhions  doth  excell : 
She  married  him  for  pure  loue  to  his  wealth, 
But  hath  a  friend  for  tother  thing  by  ftealth. 

His  children  long,  as  mifers  children  do. 

To  be  a  fharing,  ery  months  a  yeare, 

They  hope  heele  dy,  their  minds  confent  thereto, 

And  then  their  gallant  humors  wil  appeare, 

The  angels  kept  in  darknes  by  his  might, 

Shal  by  their  power  approach  and  come  to  light. 

Vintners  make  welcomes  ready  for  they  come. 

Let  them  not  want  (I  praie)  Potato  pies, 

And  Cheaters  with  falfe  dice  looke  out  for  fome, 

No  little  profit  to  your  fliares  will  rife : 

But  Bawds  and  whores  haue  you  a  fpecial  care, 

To  fit  them  penni-worths  with  your  pocky  ware. 



A  bloudy  Battell 

As  the  oppreffer  got  it  wicked  in, 

The  prodigal  wil  fend  it  vainly  out, 

One  wickednes  requites  anothers  fin, 

If  vengeance  haue  a  plague  to  bring  about. 

For  what  is  got  by  rapine  and  by  wrong, 

The  Deuil  wil  be  doer  in't  ere  long. 

Let  them  haue  Lord-fhips,  and  be  Zords  of  Towns, 

Let  them  inioy  the  world,  at  wit  and  wil, 

Zet  them  bequeath  fiue  hundred  mourning  gownes, 

And  profper  al  their  daies  in  doing  il : 

Giue  backe  their  goods  when  life  is  almoft  fpent. 

As  ludas  when  to  hange  himfelfe  he  went. 

What  of  al  this,  it  warrants  not  from  hel.-' 
The  wicked  getting  is  not  iuftifyed, 
Becaufc  the  rich  difpofeth  riches  wel. 
Wrong  gotten,  and  wel  giuen  when  he  died: 
For  tis  like  him,  fteales  from  anothers  ftore, 
And  of  that  coine  giues  almes  vnto  the  poore. 



betwixt  Time  and  Death, 

The  vfurer  whom  God  forbids  as  plaine, 
Take  any  intrefl,  as  the  theife  from  ftealing, 
And  yet  wil  venter  foule  for  mony  gaine, 
Opreffmg  al  that  vndergo  his  dealing, 
Thinks  it  inough  to  make  an  honeft  wil, 
How  ere  he  got  his  goods,  that  fhal  not  skil. 

Thus  men  delude,  deceiue,  beguile,  betray 
Themfelues,  their  fowles,  their  hope,  their  happines; 
Running  the  common  beaten  paffage  way. 
That  leads  to  hel,  the  haunt  of  all  diftreffe: 
And  like  the  foolifli  Virgins  knocke  too  late. 
When  ther's  no  entrance  in  at  heauens  eate. 

One  builds  a  houfe,  and  titles  that  his  owne, 
Giues  it  his  name,  to  keep  his  name  in  found, 
When  prefently  a  graue  with  one  fquare  ftone, 
Wil  ferue  his  bodies  turne  to  ly  in  ground. 
Ten  thoufand  pounds  his  coftly  houfe  requires, 
A  coffin  of  a  crowne's  al  death  defires. 



A  bloudy  Battell 

Another  fals  to  purchafing  of  land, 
Heele  haue  it  out  of  Orchard,  field,  and  wood. 
And  onely  with  his  humor  it  doth  ftand, 
To  get  much  in  his  hand,  and  do  no  good : 
This  Mole  that  in  the  earth  is  moiling  thus, 
With  fix  foot  ground  is  fatisfied  by  vs. 

Death  No  more,  away,  looke  heere  my  glaffe  is  out, 
Thou  art  to  tedious  Time  in  telling  tales, 
Our  bloody  bufincffe  let  vs  go  about, 
Thoufands  are  now  at  point  of  death,  breath  failes. 
To  worke,  to  worke,  and  lay  about  thee  man, 
Let's  kil  as  faft,  as  for  our  Hues  we  can. 

Harke,  lijlen  Time,  I  pray  giite  care, 
Wliat  bell  is  that  a  tozvlinsr  there? 



D  I  O  G  I  N  E  S 



Athens  I  feeke  for  honeft  men; 

But  I  fhal  finde  the  God  knows  when. 

He  fearch  the  Citie,  where  if  I  can  fee 
One  honeft  man ;  he  fhal  goe  with  me. 


Printed  for  Thomas  Archer,  and  are  to  be  folde  at  his  Shop 

in  Popes-head  Pallace,  neere  the  Royall- 

Exchange.    1607. 


AN  odde  dayes  worke  Diogines  once  made, 
And  'twas  to  feeke  an  honeft  man  he  faid. 
Through  Athens  with  a  Candle  he  did  goe, 
When  people  fa  we  no  caufe  he  fliould  doe  fo: 
For  it  was  day-hght  and  the  Sunne  did  fhine; 
Yet  he  vnto  a  humour  did  incHne 
To  checke  Mens  manners  with  fome  od-croffe  ieft, 
Whereof  he  was  continually  poffeft. 
Full  of  reproofes  where  he  abufes  found; 
And  bolde  to  fpeake  his  minde,  Who  euer  fround. 
He  fpake  as  free  to  Alexanders  face, 
As  if  the  meaneft  Plow-man  were  in  place. 
Twas  not  mens  perfons  that  he  did  refpeft ; 
Nor  any  calling :  Vice  he  durft  dete6l. 
Imagine  you  doe  fee  him  walke  the  ftreetes, 
And  euery  one's  a  knaue,  with  whome  he  meetes. 
Note  their  difcriptions ;  which  good  cenfure  craues 
Then  judge  if  he  haue  caufe  to  count  them  knaues, 

Samvell    Rowlands. 


D  I  o  G  I  N  E  s   In  his  Lanthorn 

Ow    fye    vpon    feeking 

honeft  men  in  knaues  fkins, 
I  am  euen  as  Aveary  as  euer 
was  Platoes  Dogge.  Not  a 
Streete,  Lane  nor  Alley  in 
AtJiciis  but  I  haue  trode  it, 
and  cannot  meet  a  man  wor- 
thy the  giuing  good  morowe 
too :  why  what  raflcalles  be 
thefe  ?  haue  they  banifht  honeft  men  out  of  the  Towne 
quite?  Alas  poore  Vcrtue,  what  haft  thou  done  to  de- 
ferue  this  contempt?  bafe  is  thy  attyre,  as  thrid-bare 
in  thy  apparel  as  m.y  Gowne:  thy  company  out  of  re- 
queft,  for  thou  haft  walked  fo  long  alone,  that  thou  art 
euen  walked  away  with  thy  felfe:  ther's  no  goodnes  to 
be  found  Al's  fet  vpon  villany.  Yonder  walkes  Bri- 
bery, taken  for  an  honeft  fubftantiall  graue  Cittizen, 
I  marry  is  he,  pra'y  make  him  one  of  your  Common 

There  goes  Crueltye  and  Extortion,  put  off  your 
hattes  to  him :  tis  well  done,  he  is  one  of  the  principall 
and  beft  in  the  parifh,  he  hath  borne  all  Offices  and  ne- 
uer  did  good  :  a  moft  abhominable  rich  fellowe,  but 
how  the  deuill  came  he  by  his  wealth?  Widowes,  wi- 
dowes,  three   or   foure  olde   ruftie   golde -begetting  wi- 

A  3  dowes 

Diogines  Lanthorne. 

dowes  haue  crown'd  him  with  their  wealths,  and  that 
wicked  Mammon  is  deerer  vnto  him  then  his  owne 
foule:  Nay,  if  he  had  fiue  thoufand  foulcs,  he  would 
fell  them  all  for  fiue  thoufand  Dukcats  of  golde. 

Stay,  let  me  fee!  what's  he?  Oh  tis  Prodigallitie 
and  his  whore,  a  Gentleman  and  a  Gentlewoman, 
they  are  walking  towards  the  fuburbs  of  a  Bawdie- 
houfe  for  their  recreation  :  yonder  rides  the  Bawde  in 
her  Coach  before,  and  they  two  come  leyfurcly  ( with 
the  pox )  behinde,  but  will  all  meete  together  anone  to 
make  Avorke  for  the  Chirurgio,  who  will  anfwer  their 
loofe  bodyes  with  the  fquirt. 

Now  He  affure  you  though  I  laugh  but  fildome,  I 
mufl  n^edes  make  merry  with  yonder  Affe :  why  he  is 
trapt  for  all  the  world  like  Alexanders  horfe,  fuch  a 
Feather  in's  head,  fo  begarded,  and  the  very  fame  trot: 
I  haue  knowne  his  Father  well,  he  was  a  moft  graue 
Senator  (in  regarde  of  his  gray  beard)  and  did  much 
little  good  in  the  Cittie,  got  wealth,  and  pylde  vp  golde 
euen  as  they  pyle  vp  ftockfifli  in  IJland,  and  now  his 
Sonne  ( the  fecond  parte  of  a  foole )  has  all,  all :  mary 
what  doth  he  with  it?  ( ftay,  let  me  fnuffe  my  Candle 
and  He  tell  you )  euen  like  one  of  Siguieiir  Scatter- 
goods  Polititians  he  deuides  it  into  partes:  A  great 
portion  for  Dyeing,  a  good  fumme  for  drinking,  a  par- 
cel for  whoring,  a  moytie  for  pride,  a  third  for  daun- 
cing,  fix  fhares  and  a  halfe  for  fwaggering,  and  all  the 
remayner  for  beggery.  Walke  along  knaue,  walke 

Who  haue  we  next  comes  creeping  with  the  palfey 
in  his  ioynts,  a  great  leather  pouch  by  his  fide  as  large 
a  gammon  of  Bacon,  his  long  ftockins,  and  a  fide  coat 
croffe-bard  with  veluet  to  his  knees?  ftay  (light,  light) 
let  me  fee!  oh  I  know  the  damnd  flaue,  tis  Mounfieur 
Vfiuy,  what  a  leane  lanke  thin -gut  it  is:  he  lookes 
meruailous     like    a    long     emptie    Cats-fi-:in    purffe,     I 


Diogines  Lanthorne: 

would  I  had  his  fkin  to  make  me  a  Sommer  payre  of 

O  what  a  bleffednes  is  it  to  me,  that  I  neuer  came 
into  fuch  a  villaines  clutches!  What  doe's  he  pray  as 
he  goes,  his  chaps  walke  fo  faft?  No,  no,  the  rogue  is 
ruminating  vpon  his  pawnes,  he  chawes  the  Cud  in 
contemplation  of  Bonds  and  Billes,  I  dare  be  fworne 
he  neuer  champes  fo  much  vpon  his  dinner  or  fupper, 
for  his  paunch  cryes  out  on  him,  and  all  the  guttes  in 
his  pudding- houfe  rumble  and  grumble  at  their  flen- 
der  alowance.  He  obiefts  the  olde  prouerb  to  his  belly, 
Many  a  Sacke  is  tyed  vp  before  it  be  full.  I  would 
I  had  the  dyeting  of  him  fome  month  with  my  rootes, 
I  would  fend  him  deeper  vnder  ground  then  ere  they 
grewe:  the  Canibal  fliould  neuer  feed  more  vpon  poor 
men,  &  play  the  Dice-maker  with  their  bones:  hang 
him  rogue  hang  him. 

How  now  thou  drunken  knaue,  canft  not  fee  but 
reele  upon  me?  I  would  I  had  bene  ware  of  thee,  thou 
fhouldft  haue  borne  me  a  good  bange  with  my  flaffe: 
what  a  flaue's  this,  as  I  line  I  was  almoft  downe. 

Looke  how  his  cloake  hanges,  one  fide  to  his  ankles 
and  th'other  fide  to  his  elbowe :  his  fteppes  take  the 
longitude  and  the  latitude,  hoyfe,  hoyfe:  This  fellow 
is  now  ( in  his  owne  conceit )  mightily  ftrong,  for  he 
dares  fight  with  any  man  :  he  is  exceeding  rich,  fcornes 
money,  and  cares  not  for  twenty  thoufand  pound:  he 
is  marueilous  wife,  and  tut  tel  not  him,  for  he  knowes 
more  the  any  man  whatfoeuer.  What's  he  that  dares 
refufe  to  pledge  him  ?  as  fure  as  Death  if  he  could  feele 
or  finde  his  Dagger,  ftabbes  would  be  dealt:  harke 
how  the  villaine  fweares,  there's  all  his  Hofteffe  hath 
in  pawne  for  his  fcore,  yet  hee's  a  paffing  good  Cufto- 
mer  for  v^tterance,  about  a  Barrell  a  day  goes  downe 
his  gutter.  So  take  him  in  there  at  the  red  Lattice,  he 
has  caft   Ancker  at  the  blew  Ancker   for  this  day,  fill 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

him  of  the  beft,  for  hee  is  euen  one  of  the  beft  gueftes 
that  euer  tooke  vp  fodden  Avater  Avith  chalk -ccredite 
on  a  poft.  Out  vpon  him,  out  vpon  him,  He  reade  his 
Deftinie,  dye  in  a  ditch  knaue,  or  end  in  an  Hofpitall 
Rafcall,  chufe  whether  thou  wilt. 

How  lookes  yonder  fellow?  whats  the  matter  with 
him  trow?  has  a  eaten  Bul-beefe?  there's  a  lofty  flaue 
indeede,  hee's  in  the  altitudes :  Oh  ift  you  Maifter 
Ambition}  I  would  be  glad  to  fee  you  hang'd  awhile, 
for  an  old  acquaintance:  A  great  man  with  the  Em- 
peror ile  affure  you,  a  great  man  with  the  Emperor: 
his  voice  is  heard  in  the  Court  now,  and  his  Fathers 
voice  was  wont  to  be  heard  in  the  Cittie:  for  I  haue 
heard  him  many  a  time  and  often  crye  broomes  in  -^- 
thens:  a  good  plaine  honeft  man,  and  delt  much  with 
old  fliooes :  I  heard  him  once  tell  this  proud  knaue  ( be- 
ing then  a  Boy )  a  good  difcourfe  of  Lijiice  out  of  a 
Broome :  Sirra  faid  he,  heere's  Birch  to  corre6le  you 
in  Child -hood,  and  when  you  growe  to  be  a  great  lub- 
ber, heere's  a  ftaffe  to  be-labour  you:  If  that  will  not 
ferue  to  amend  you,  why  then  heere's  euen  a  With  to 
hang  you  vp:  Amen  fay  I,  hee's  growing  towards  it 
apace:  afpiring  to  rife  hie,  plotting  to  be  mightie:  and 
what  tooles  has  a  out  of  the  deuils  fhop  for  this  worke  ? 
Treafon,  Trcafo7i  he  will  afcend  by  Treafon,  though 
he  climbe  the  Gallowes  for  it,  and  cracke  his  necke  in 
comming  downe  againe.  If  I  falute  him,  and  put  off 
my  cap,  I  would  my  Lanthorne  were  in  my  belly. 
Vertiic  fcornes  him,  I  know  him  not:  ftrout  along  fir- 
ra,  ftrout  along,  for  thou  haft  not  long  to  ftrout  it. 

More  knaues  abroad  yet?  yonders  Bojling  &  Pre- 
fumption,  I  hold  my  life  as  old  as  I  am  ile  take  his 
Rapier  from  him  with  my  walking  ftaff,  he  is  al  found 
and  breath;  tongue  and  talk;  feares  no  man,  cares  for 
no  man,  beholding  to  no  man:  but  trie  his  valour,  put 
him  to  it,  fee  whats  in  him,  dare  him  to  the  proofe,  and 


Diogines  Lanthorne: 

there's  mine  emptie  fellowe  like  a  water  bubble  flying 
in  the  ayre  till  a  puffe  cracke  him:  I  neuer  knew  (fince 
I  knew  reafon )  a  wordie  fellow  prooue  a  worthy  fel- 
low: a  man  muft  fet  his  hand  to  his  man-hood  and  fin- 
ger it,  'twil  not  be  had  with  wounds  and  blood,  hart 
and  nayles,  as  euery  rafcally  knaue  makes  account: 
when  two  Curres  meete,  all  the  while  they  bark  they 
haue  no  leyfure  to  bite:  Alexander  had  a  bragging 
Soldier  that  fwore  he  had  kild  fine  hundred  men  Avith 
fillips,  yet  this  fellowe  fware  the  peace  againft  a  wo- 
man that  had  broken  his  head  with  his  owne  dagger: 
and  tother  day  I  followed  a  couple  of  notorious  brag- 
garts into  the  field,  one  fware  he  would  imbrewe  his 
Rapier  hilts  in  the  bowels  of  his  foe,  the  other  vowed 
to  make  him  eate  iron  and  fleele  like  an  EJirige:  whe 
they  came  to  the  place  appoynted.  both  drew  their  wea- 
pons, layd  them  prefently  downe,  and  went  to  bufifetts 
for  a  blody  nofe,  which  I  feeing,  ran  to  the  towne  and 
cry'd  murder,  murder,  &  fo  brought  three  hundred  peo- 
ple togeather  to  laugh  at  them,  I  tould  tell  many  like 
examples  of  Signieur  feather  cap  and  his  fellow,  but 
that  I  fpy  another  knaue  cominge,  that  puts  me  out. 
Tis,  Contention  ( nay  ile  go  low  enough  to  the  kenel, 
y  fhalt  not  iuftle  me  for  the  wall)  looke  how  a  flares 
fee  how  a  frownes,  he  has  had  a  poore  man  in  law 
this  three  yeare,  for  bidding  his  dog  Come  ont  cuc- 
kolds curve,  yet  if  the  dogge  could  fpeake  he  would 
beare  witnes  againft  his  maifter  for  home  worke 
that  he  hath  feene  wrought  by  his  myftris  in  her  cha- 
ber  to  make  her  hufband  night  caps  of 

Oh  flrife  is  the  fom  of  his  defires,  tis  the  folace  of  his 
fowle,  he  is  neuer  well  at  harts  eafe  if  he  be  not 
wranglinge  with  one  or  other:  ile  try  it  by  law  (fayes 
hee )  the  law  fhall  iudge  it :  ile  come  to  no  agreement 
but  law,  ile  pynch  him  by  law,  I  haue  a  hundred  poud 
to    fpend    at    law,    and    all    law,    law:  yet   he   himfelfe 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

is  altogether  voyd  of  equitie:  hee'l  neither  take  wrong 
nor  doe  right:  bytes  his  poore  neighbour  doggedly  by 
the  backe,  fcornes  his  Superiour,  tramples  vpon  his 
inferiour,  and  fo  he  may  be  wrangling,  cares  not  with 
whome  it  be,  to  keepe  his  hand  in  vre.  He  neuer  went 
to  bed  in  charitie  in  his  life,  nor  neuer  wakes  without 
meditating  fhrewd  turnes.  Oh  he  loues  wonderfully 
to  be  feeding  on  the  bread  of  flrife,  and  immitates  the 
Camels  which  delight  to  drink  in  troubled  pooles:  well 
he  fliall  ioyne  no  neighbour-hood  with  me  for  it:  my 
Tunne  ftands  farre  inough  off  from  his  houfe:  I  had 
rather  haue  a  Beare  to  my  next  neighbour,  then  fuch  a 
brabling  rafcall,  goe  walke  a  knaue  in  the  horfe-faire, 
I  haue  nothing  to  fay  to  thee  but  farwel  and  be  hangd, 
and  when  th'art  going  that  iourney,  take  all  thy  fel- 
lowes  with  thee. 

Well  met,  or  rather  ill  met  Hipocrijie'.  Ah  thou 
fmooth  face  villaine  with  the  fawning  tongue,  art  thou 
become  a  Citizen  too?  then  looke  about  you  plaine  fel- 
lowes,  you  fliall  be  fure  to  want  no  deceite:  he  hates 
fwearing,  fo  doe  I :  tis  well  doone  to  hate  it,  but  he 
loues  lying,  and  wil  ouer-reach  you  in  a  bad  bargaine 
or  with  falfe  weight  and  meafure:  Yes  indeed,  I  truly 
will  he.  H^ele  figh  and  fay  ther's  no  Confcience  now- 
adayes,  and  then  makes  his  owne  actions  beare  wit- 
nes  to  it :  by  yea  and  nay  if  he  can  he  will  deceiue  you, 

Looke  to  his  handes,  harken  not  to  his  tongue,  and 
fay  I  haue  giuen  you  faire  warning,  For  a  Philofo- 
pher  hath  bene  coufned  by  him.  I  had  rather  haue  it 
faid,  Diogines  was  deceiued,  then  to  heare  it  repor- 
ted he  is  a  deceiuer.  I  payde  for  a  better  Cap  then  I 
weare,  and  my  gowne  is  fcarce  worth  halfe  the  money 
it  coft  me,  marry  what  remedie.''  nothing:  I  haue 
learn'd  by  it  onely  A  knacke  to  krioive  a  Knaue:  and 
while  I  Hue  ile  looke  better  to  Yes  tntelye,  and 
/  indeed:  Hipocrifie  fliall  neuer  fell  me  good  wordes 
againc  while  he  Hues:  Ile  neu'r  buye  breath  more  for 



Diogines  Lanthorne : 

money.  If  a  Theife  fhould  meete  me  going  home,  and 
take  away  my  purffe,  I  would  fay  I  met  with  an  ho- 
nefter  man  then  hee  that  coufon'd  me  in  the  buying  of 
my  Gowne,  for  the  Theife  would  proue  a  man  of  his 
worde,  and  tell  me  Avhat  I  fhould  truft  to  in  the  pe- 
remptory tearmes  of  Stand,  delincr  your  Purffe. 

But  my  Gowne-brother,  he  promift  me  good  ftuffe 
truly,  a  great  peny- worth  indeed,  and  verily  did  gull 
me.  But  let  him  take  leaue  of  my  purffe,  hee's  a  vil- 
laine,  an  arrant  villaine,  and  I  could  euen  finde  in  my 
harte  to  eat  his  Liuer  fry'd  with  Parfley  to  morowe 
morning  for  my  breakfaft. 

How  now,  what's  the  matter.^  whether  goes  all 
this  hurly  burly  .^  heer's  a  clutter  indeed.  Now  I  fee, 
now  I  fee.  Confnage  the  Swaggerer  i§  caryed  to  pri- 
fon :  I  heare  the  people  fay  he  hath  ftab'd  the  Confta- 
ble,  beate  the  Watch,  broke  the  Tapflers  head,  and 
lyen  with  his  Hofteffe. 

Heer's  no  villaine:  pray'  fearch  his  pockets,  I  tolde 
you  afmuch :  falfe  hart,  falfe  hand,  and  falfe  dice :  what 
crooked  tooles  are  thofe  in's  tother  pocket }  pick-locks, 
pick-lockes:  This  fellowe  Hues  by  his  wits,  but  yet 
longs  not  to  Wits  Common  wealth:  he  fweares  he 
is  a  gentleman :  I  but  of  what  houfe .''  marry  Cheaters 
Ordinary:  an  Ingenious  flaue  that  workes  a  lining 
out  of  hard  bones,  and  has  it  at  his  fingers  ends:  eue- 
ry  man  him  is  a  very  rogue  and  a  bafe  gull  :  He 
threatens  ftabs  and  death,  with  hart,  wounds  &  blood, 
yet  a  bloody  nofe  hath  made  him  call  for  a  Chirurgion. 
He  fcornes  to  dwel  in  a  fuite  of  apparell  a  weeke :  this 
day  in  fattin,  to  morow  in  fackcloath:  one  d  ayll  new, 
the  next  day  all  feam-rent:  now  on  his  backe,  anon  at 
the  brokers:  &  this  by  his  reckning  is  a  gentlemans 
humour.  Sure  I  cannot  deny  but  it  may  be  fo,  but  I 
pray'  then  what  humor  is  the  gentlema  in .?  he  is  neuer 
( in  my  opinion )  like  to  prooue  gentlema  by  the  humor. 

B  2  Away 

Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Away  with  him,  away  with  him,  make  fure  worke, 
chayne  and  kennell  him  vp  in  layle,  make  him  a 
knight  of  the  dolorous  caftell. 

He  wil  do  better  farr  tyed  vp,  then  loofe  at  lyberty,  let 
him  not  play  the  wandring  pilgrim  in  any  cafe,  ther's 
no  remedy  for  fuch  wilde  fellowes  but  to  tame  them 
in  the  dungeon  of  darkenes:  follow  him  clofe  watch- 
men with  your  halberts,  leaft  he  fhow  you  a  new 
daunce  call'd  run-awayes  galliard.  So,  fo,  by  this  tyme 
he  lyes  where  hee's  like  to  proue  lowfie,  if  there  be  not 
fome  fpeedy  remedy  vf'd,  with  a  medecine  made  of 
hempe  feede,  to  kill  his  ytche. 

Who  haue  we  next  pra'y  ?  I  fhould  know  him  by 
his  villanous,  fcuruy  looks,  a  makes  a  wry  mouth,  & 
has  a  grinninge  countenance,  for  all  the  world  like 
Detraction,  why  tis  he  indeed:  a  rope  flretch  him,  has 
not  the  Crowes  peckt  out  his  eyes  yet?  See  how  hee 
laughs  to  him  felfe,  at  yonder  playne  gentlewoman  in 
the  old  faflion,  becaufe  fhe  ha's  not  the  trafli  &  trum- 
pery of  miflris  Looje-legges  about  her. 

Doft  thou  deride  Cyuility  knaue?  is  decency  become 
rediculous  ?  looke  vpon  thy  felfe,  thou  rafcall,  looke 
vpon  thy  felfe,  whom  al  the  wifemen  in  the  world  may 
laugh  to  fcorne  indeede. 

Thou  haft  nothinge  in  thee,  ( if  thy  infide  were  tur- 
ned outward)  worthy  of  the  leaft  commendation,  and 
yet  fuch  villains  wil  euer  be  fcoffing  ( deriding  and  de- 
tra6ting,  from  thofe  of  the  beft  fpirrits  and  w^orthyeft 
endeuours )  learned  mens  workes,  induftrious  mens 
trauells,  graue  mens  counfells,  famous  mens  vertues, 
and  wife  mens  artes,  Detraclion  wil  fpit  venome  at: 
nothing  is  well  done  that  flowes  not  from  his  durty 
Inuention:  he  has  fcoffes  for  them  he  knowes  not,  and 
lefts  for  thofe  he  neuer  faw,  what  a  world's  this  ?  when 
a  foole  fhall  cenfure  a  Philofopher  ?  a  doult,  an  ideot  ? 
one  that  hath  wit  in's  heele  &  head  alike  to  condemne 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

and  depraue  natures  miracles  for  wit  and  wifdome. 

This  is  he  that  can  mend  euerie  thing  that  is  ready 
made  to  his  hand,  detrafting  from  the  worthines  of 
euerie  mans  work:  tis  a  villaine,  a  right  villaine  bred 
and  borne,  he  came  not  long  fmce  along  my  tub-houfe 
and  fcoffing  at  mee,  afked  why  I  made  it  not  a  tap- 
houfe  ?  Mary  ( quoth  1)1  haue  determined  fo  to  doe, 
but  I  want  fuch  a  Rogue  as  thou  art,  to  make  mee  a 
figne  of:  with  that  a  cal'd  me  Dogge.  Said  I,  thou 
didft  neuer  heare  me  barke,  but  thou  fhalt  feele  mee 
bite,  and  fo  thru  ft  my  pike-ftaffe  through  his  cheekes, 
that  I  made  his  teeth  chatter  in  his  head  like  a  viper 
as  he  is. 

Nay  then  we  fhal  neuer  haue  done:  looke  where  le- 
lofie  is,  as  yellowe  as  if  hee  had  the  yellow  laiindice : 
his  wife's  an  honeft  woman  in  my  confcience,  loyall 
and  true  in  wedlocke,  but  becaufe  hee  like  a  fornica- 
ting rafcall  vfes  common  Curtezans,  hee  thinkes  her 
curtefies  and  theirs  are  al  alike  to  euerie  man,  come 
who  will:  his  eyes  followe  her  feete  wherfoeuer  fhe 
goes :  if  any  friend  falute  her,  fhee  dares  not  replie,  but 
mnft  paffe  ftrager-like  without  any  fhow  of  curtefie: 
he  fweares  fliee's  a  whore,  and  himfelf  a  large  horn'd 
cuckold,  all  be  to  runne  butt  with  all  Cuckolds  in  the 

Nay  hee's  growne  to  fuch  out  rage,  that  he  is  e- 
uen  franticke  with  lealoiifie,  fometimes  offering  to 
lay  wagers  y  no  Bull  dares  encouter  with  his  head, 
and  that  his  homes  are  more  pretious  then  any  Vni- 
corne:  the  Haberdafher  cannot  fit  him  with  a  Hat 
wide  enough:  the  Barbor  cannot  trim  his  fore  head 
clofe  enough,  and  yet  the  pox  hath  made  his  beard  thin 
enough:  he  faies  he  thinkes  there's  not  an  honeft  wo- 
man in  Athens  to  his  knowledge,  and  the  reafon  is, 
he  is  familiar  with  none  but  whores.  A  bawdie  houfe 
is  for  his  bodily  exercife,  and  hee  cannot  liue  without 





dnes  Lanthorne. 

his  letcheiy,  he  hath  whores  of  all  coplexions,  whores 
of  all  fyzes,  and  whores  of  all  defeafes :  and  this  is  the 
caufe  that  the  vilanous  fellow  d^ems  all  to  be  whores. 
But  maifters  marke  the  end  of  him  that  hath  beene 
laide  fiue  times  of  the  pox :  if  he  be  not  throughly  fren- 
chefied,  and  well  pcpcr'd  for  his  venerie,  then  wil  I  for 
feauen  yeares  eate  hay  with  a  horfe:  wel  He  croffe  the 
way  to  tothor  fide  the  ftreete,  before  hee  come  too  nie 
me,  I  dare  not  indure  him,  tis  good  fleeping  in  a  found 
Ikinne:  I  would  not  be  in's  coate  for  Alexanders  rich 
gowne,  out  ftinking  knaue  out.  Hold  off  thy  Cart 
knaue,  wilt  ouer  runne  me?  thy  horfe  hath  more  ho- 
neftie  in  him  then  thou,  for  he  auoides  mee,  and  thou 
drawft  vpon  me.  So  Villaine  fo,  curfe  the  creature 
that  gets  thy  lining,  &  fee  how  thou  wilt  thriue  by  it. 
Thou  blinde  knaue  Porter,  dooft  rufh  vpon  me  with 
thy  bafket,  and  then  faift  by  your  leane?  belike  thou 
meanft  to  iuftell  me  againe,  for  thou  didft  afke  no  leaue 
the  firft  time  beforehand,  what  brutifh  flaues  doe  I 
meete  with.''  my  ftaffe  fliall  meete  with  fome  of  you  a- 
non,  take  thou  that  knaue,  for  crying  broomes  fo  loud 
in  mine  eares,  heeres  a  quoile  indeed :  your  cittie  fliuf- 
lings,  rumbling,  and  tumbling,  is  not  for  my  humor. 
What  a  filthie  throat  has  that  Oyfter  wife,  I  thinke 
twill  eccho  in  my  braine-pan  this  houre.  This  is  the 
raging  ftreete  of  out-cries,  ile  outwalke  it  with  al  the 
fpeede  I  can. 

Hetherto  haue  I  met  with  neuer  an  honeft  man, 
well,  ile  burne  out  my  Candles  end,  and  then  make  an 
end  and  get  uie  home.  So,  this  is  good  to  begin  with- 
all,  had  your  ftreete  neuer  a  knaue  to  enconnter  my 
firft  entrance  but  Difcord?  Malum  Omen,  Malum 
Omen,  This  is  he  that  fets  countries  and  kingdoms 
together  by  the  eares,  breedes  Cittie  mutinies,  and 
domefticall  contentions,  Prince  againft  Prince,  nati- 
on   againft    nation,    kindred,    neighbour,  friend    all   at 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

varience,  This  is  he  that  calles  Peace  with  her  palme 
tree,  idle  hufwife,  and  foundes  defiance  through  out 
the  whole  world :  you  are  wrong'd  ( faies  he )  put  not 
vp  fuch  a  vile  indignitie,  this  difgrace  no  manhood 
can  indure,  your  valour  and  reputation  is  in  ftate  of 
preiudice,  tis  wounded  by  fuch  a  one,  and  you  cannot 
in  any  wife  put  it  vp,  for  the  whole  world  takes  notice 
of  it,  and  all  men  will  cenfure  }'ou. 

This  is  the  Rafcall  that  made  me  fall  out  with 
Plato,  call  him  proud  fellow,  and  trample  vppon  his 
bed,  becaufe  it  was  fomewhat  hansomer  and  better 
deckt  then  mine.  In  all  his  life  time,  ( and  ile  affure 
you  tis  an  old,  gray,  leane,  drie,  rotten  bond  villaine) 
did  hee  neuer  fliow  cheerefuU  countenance  but  at  the 
fight  of  fome  mifchiefe:  he  would  rather  byte  his  tong 
thorow  then  bid  any  man  good  morrow.  So  fo,  now 
it  workes,  hee's  got  amongft  a  crew  of  fcolding  fifh- 
wiues,  off  goes  her  head  ittire,  haue  at  tothers  throate, 
too  her  green  waft- coat,  why  now  it  works  like  waxe. 

Thruft  in  Cut-purfe,  for  theres  good  penni worths  to 
be  had  amongft  them,  thy  trade  is  like  to  be  quicke  by 
and  by,  cuftomers  come  apace,  make  a  priuie  fearch 
without  a  Conftable,  ile  flay  no  longer  with  you,  a 
rope  rid  you  al.  Now  fie  vp5  thee  flouenly  knaue,  whe 
didft  thou  wafh  thy  face.-*  Heeres  SloatJi  right  in  his 
kinder  the  hat  he  weares  all  day,  at  euening  becomes 
his  night -cap:  his  frieze  gowne  fconce,  wherein  he  in- 
trenches himfelfe,  is  at  leaft  thirtie  thoufand  ftrong: 
Garter  thy  hofe  beaft,  garter  thy  hofe,  or  will  the  pox 
indure  no  garters  t 

This  fellowe  I  remember  comming  to  a  Fig-tree, 
beeing  fo  extreame  lazie  that  hee  could  not  ftretch  his 
arme  out  to  gather  any,  laide  himfelfe  downe  vppon 
his  backe,  and  gaping  cried : 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Siveete  Figges   drop   downe   in  yeelding   wife. 
For  Lazie  zuill  not   let  me   rife. 

This  is  he  that  rifeth  late,  and  goes  earely  to  bed, 
vp  to  eate,  and  downe  to  fleepe  :  fcornes  labour,  for  hee 
is  as  ftiffe  ioynted  as  the  ElapJiant,  and  rather  then 
he  would  indure  halfe  an  howers  labour,  hee  would 
willingly  chufe  a  whole  howres  hanging.  I  know  no 
vse  in  the  world  for  him,  except  to  keep  the  Citie  bread 
from  moulding,  and  the  townes  liquor  from  fowring. 

This  is  he,  that  lying  at  eafe  vpon  his  backe,  where 
a  cart  was  to  paffe,  in  treated  the  Carman  to  draw  ea- 
fie  ouer  him,  for  he  could  not  rife  yet  til  his  lafie  fit  was 
paft.  this  is  he  that  could  rather  be  lowfie  then  endure 
to  haue  his  fhirt  wafh'd,  and  had  rather  goe  to  bed  in 
hofe  and  fhooes,  then  ftoope  to  pull  them  off,  Hee's  fit- 
ted with  a  wife  euen  pat  of  his  owne  humor,  for  tother 
day  heating  broth  for  her  Husbands  breakefaft,  the 
Cat  cride  mew  in  the  porredge-pot,  wife  ( faid  he)  take 
out  poore  puffe,  alas  how  came  fhee  there?  with  that 
fhe  tooke  out  the  Cat  by  the  eare,  and  ftroking  off  the 
porredge  from  her  into  the  pot,  they  two  went  louing- 
ly  to  breakefafb  with  it. 

A  fhame  take  them  both  for  filthie  companions,  for 
their  broth  is  abhominable:  who!  then  we  fhall  neuer 
haue  done,  heeres  hell  broke  loofe,  fwarming  together. 
Derifion,  hee  goes  before,  and  fcoffes  euerie  man  hee 
meetes:  dofl  laugh  at  my  Lanthorne  knaue,  becaufe 
I  vfe  Candle-light  by  day.?  why  villaine  tis  to  feeke 
fuch  as  you'le  neucr  be,  Honeft  men. 

Violence  he  walkes  with  him,  heele  doe  iniurie  to 
his  owne  Father  if  he  can,  al  that  he  weares  on's  back 
and  all  that  he  puts  in's  belly,  is  got  by  oppreffion, 
wrong,  and  crueltie,  he  cares  not  how  he  get  it,  fo  hee 
get  it,  nor  from  whence  he  rake  it,  fo  he  haue  it. 

Ingratitude  makes  one  in  their  confort,  an  inhu- 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

mane  and  vnciuill  fauadge,  if  a  man  fhould  doe  him  a 
thoufand  good  turnes  in  a  day,  he  would  neuer  giue  a 
thoufand  good  wordes  in  a  yeare  for  them. 

Impatience  is  another  of  their  fraternity:  a  raging 
knaue,  an  vnquiet  turbulent  rogue:  hee'le  allow  time 
for  nothing,  al's  at  a  minutes  warning  that  he  cals  for, 
or  hee'le  rage,  rayle,  curffe  and  fwear,  that  a  wife  man 
would  not  for  ten  pound  be  within  ten  myles  of  him. 

Who's  the  other .^  holde  vp  thy  head  knaue:  Oh  tis 
Ditlnes,  the  moft  notorious  block-head  that  euer  pift, 
Inflru6le  him  till  your  tongue  ake,  he  has  no  eares  for 
you:  theres  nothing  in  him  but  the  Affes  vertue,  thats 
dull  melancholy:  how  lumpifh  a  lookes.?  out  rafcalles 
out:  Now  a  murraine  take  you  all,  I  did  neuer  make 
a  worfe  dayes  worke  in  my  life  then  I  haue  done  to 
day:  heere's  a  Cittie  well  bleft,  tis  well  prouided  I 
warrant  you.  If  a  man  fhould  need  an  honeft  mans 
help,  where  fhould  he  find  him.^  Well  farwel  Athens, 
I  and  my  Tubbe  fcorne  thee  and  thy  Cittizens. 

Diogi7tes  loft  labour. 

JZ}  Hilofopher,  thy  labour  is  in  vaine, 
•*-       Put  out  thy  Candle,  get  thee  home  againe, 
If  company  of  honeft  men  thou  lacke. 
They  are  fo  fcarce,  thou  muft  alone  goe  backe. 
But  if  thou  pleafe  to  take  fome  knaues  along, 
Giue  but  a  becke,  and  ftore  will  flocke  and  throng. 
He  that  did  vomit  out  his  houfe  and  land, 
Euen  with  a  wincke,  will  ready  come  to  hand. 
And  he  of  whome  thou  didfl  ten  fhillings  craue, 
As  thinking  nere  againe  his  almes  to  haue 

C  Becaufe 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Becaufe  he  was  a  prodigall,  in  wafte, 

And  to  vndoe  him-felfe  made  wondrous  hafle. 

If  thou  haft  roome  to  ftooe  him  in  thy  Tunne, 

He  will  be  ready  both  to  goe  and  runne. 

Or  thofe  fame  drunken  Fidlers,  thou  didft  finde 

A  tuning  wood,  when  they  them-felues  were  bhnde, 

Whome  thou  didft  with  thy  ftaffe  belabour  well: 

They'le  fmg  about  the  Tub  where  thou  doft  dwell. 

All  thofe  that  were  prefented  to  thy  fight, 

When  thou  fought'ft  honeft  men  by  Candle-light, 

Make  a  ftep  backe,  they  in  the  Cittie  bee, 

With  many  hundreds  which  thou  didft  not  fee. 

Houfes  of  rafcalles,  fhops  euen  full  of  knaues, 

Tauerne  and  Ale-houfe  fild  with  drunken  flaues. 

Your  Ordinaries  and  your  common -Innes 

Are  whole -fale  ware -houfes  of  common  fmnes. 

Into  a  bawdy  houfe  thou  didft  not  looke, 

Nor  any  notice  of  their  caperings  tooke.  ( ftraps 

Bawds  with  their  Puncks,  and  Padners  with  their 

Whores  with  their  feathers  in  their  veluet  caps. 

Thofe  Sallamanders  that  doe  bathe  in  fier, 

And  make  a  trade  of  burning  lufts  defire. 

That  doe  falute  them  whome  they  entertaine, 

With  A  pox  take  you  till  zvc  mecte  agaiue. 

Nor  thofe  which  daily,  Nouices  entice. 

To  lend  them  money  vpon  cheating  Dice. 

And  in  the  Bowling-alleys  rooke  with  betting, 

By  three,  and  foure  to  one,  moft  bafely  getting. 

All  thefe  vnfeene,  appeare  not  to  thy  face. 

With  many  a  Cut-purffe  in  the  market  place. 

That  fearches  pockets  being  filuer  lynde. 

If  Counterfets  about  men  he  can  finde. 

And  hath  Commiffion  for  it  fo  to  deale 

Vnder  the  hang -mans  warrant,  hand,  &  feale. 



Diogines  Lanthorne: 

Innumerable  fuch  I  could  repeat, 
That  vfe  the  craft  of  Coney -catch  and  cheat, 
The  Citties  vermin,  worffe  then  Rats  and  Mice, 
But  leaue  the  aclors,  to  reward  of  vice : 
He  that  reproues  it,  fhowes  a  deteftation, 
He  that  corrects  it,  workes  a  reformation. 
Who  doe  more  wrongs  and  iniurj^es  abide 
Then  honeft  men  that  are  beft  quallifide  ? 
They  that  doe  offer  leafl  abufe  to  any, 
Muft  be  prepared  for  enduring  many. 
Butheer's  the  comfort  that  the  Vertuous  finde : 
Their  Hell  is  firft,  their  Heauen  is  behinde. 

Diogines  M  orra  1 1  s. 

yj  Cocke  ftood  crowing  proud, 
•^  ■'■     Faft  by  a  riuer  fide : 
A  Goofe  in  water  hyft  at  him 
And  did  him  much  deride: 
The  Cocke  in  choler  grew, 
vowing  by  him  that  made  him, 
That  he  would  fight  with  that  bafe  Goofe 
Though  all  his  Hennes  diffwade  him. 
Come  but  afhore  ( quoth  he ) 
White  lyuer,  if  thou  dare, 
And  thou  fhalt  fee  a  bloody  day, 
Thy  throat  fhall  foone  be  bare. 
Bafe  craven  ( faid  the  Goofe ) 
I  fcorne  to  beare  the  minde 
To  come  afhore,  amongft  a  crewe 
Of  fcraping  donghill  kinde : 
Thy  Hennes  will  backe  thee  there, 
Come  hether  chaunting  flaue: 

C    2  And 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

And  in  the  water  hand  to  hand, 
A  Combat  we  will  haue. 
H6er's  none  to  interprete, 
I  challenge  thee  come  heere: 
If  there  be  valour  in  thy  combe 
Why  let  it  now  appeere. 
Enter  thy  watery  field. 
He  fpoyle  thy  Crowing  quite: 
Why  doft  not  come?  oh  now  I  fee 
Thou  haft  no  hart  to  fight. 
With  that  the  Cocke  replide, 
There  was  no  want  in  him : 
But  fure  the  water  was  fo  bad, 
It  would  not  let  him  fwim. 


/T  happens  akvayes  t/itcs 
When  Cowards  doe  contend: 
WitJi  ivi'angling  ivordes  they  doe  begin 
And  witJi  tJiofe  tveapons  end. 
Nothing  hut  vaunts  are  vf>d, 
Till  tryall  JJiould  be  made: 
A  nd  tvhcn  they  come  to  a6lion 
Each  of  other  are  affraide. 
TJicn  for  to  keep  skinnes  ivhole, 
It  is  a  common  vfe: 
To  enter  in  fonie  drunken  league, 
Or  make  a  coivards  fcufe. 

A  great 

Diogines  Lanthorne: 

/I  Great  affembly  met  of  Mice, 
•^  ■'■     Who  with  them-fekies  did  take  aduice 
What  plot  by  policye  to  fhape, 
How  they  the  bloody  Cats  might  fcape. 
At  length,  a  graue  and  auncient  Moufe 
(  Belike  the  wifeft  in  the  houfe ) 
Gaue  Counfaile  ( which  they  all  lik'd  well ) 
That  eu'ry  Cat  fhould  weare  a  Bell : 
For  fo  ( quoth  he )  we  fliall  them  heare, 
And  flye  the  daunger  which  we  feare. 
If  we  but  heare  a  Bell  to  ting 
At  eating  Cheefe,  or  any  thing, 
When  we  are  bufie  with  the  nippe, 
Into  a  hole  we  fbraite  may  fkippe. 
This  aboue  all  they  lyked  beft : 
But  quoth  one  Moufe  vnto  the  reft, 
■  Which  of  vs  all  dare  be  fo  flout, 
To  hang  the  Belles,  Cats  neckes  about, 
If  heere  be  any,  let  him  fpeake: 
Then  all  reply'd,  we  are  too  weake. 
The  flouteft  Moufe,  and  talleft  Rat, 
Do  tremble  at  a  grim-fac'd  Cat. 


'V  ^  Hus  fares  it  with  the  weake, 

-^       WJiome  mighty  men  doe  ivrong: 
They  by  complaint  may  iviJJi  redreffe, 
But  none  of  force  fo  Jlrong 
To  worke  their  owne  content: 
For  eiiery  one  doth  feare, 
Where  cruelty  doth  make  abode 
To  come  iti  prefejice  there. 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

THe  Owle  being  weary  of  the  night 
Would  progreffe  in  the  Sunne, 
To  fee  the  Httle  Birds  delight, 
And  what  by  them  was  done. 
But  comming  to  a  ftately  groue, 
Adorn'd  with  gallant  greene, 
Where  yeares  proud  fea,  Summer  ftroue 
Moft  beautious  to  be  f(6ene. 
He  lights  no  fooner  on  a  tree 
That  Summers  lyuerie  weares: 
But  all  the  little  Birds  that  be 
Ware  flock'd  about  his  eares. 
Such  wondring  and  fuch  noyfe  they  kept, 
Such  chirping,  and  fuch  peeping: 
The  Owle  for  anger  could  haue  wept, 
Had  not  fhame  hindred  weeping. 
At  length  he  made  a  folemne  vow 
And  thus  vnto  them  fpake : 
You  haue  your  time  of  pleafure  now 
An  Owle  of  me  to  make, 
But  ere  to  morowe  light  appeere 
In  dawning  of  the  Eafl : 
Fine  hundreth  of  you  that  are  heere 
I  will  difpatch  at  leaft : 
If  that  I  crufli  you  not  moft  rare, 
Why  then  loue  let  me  dye: 
A  Tittimoiife  I  will  not  fpare, 
Nor  the  leaft  Wren  doth  flye. 
And  fo  at  night  when  all  was  hufti, 
The  Owle  with  furious  minde, 
Did  fearch  and  prye  in  eu'ry  bufli 
With  fight  when  they  were  blinde. 
He  rent  their  flefh  and  bones  did  breake, 
Their  feathers  flewe  in  th'  aire: 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

And  cruelly  with  bloody  beake 
Thofe  little  creatures  teare. 
Now  am  I  well  reueng'd  ( quoth  he ) 
For  that  which  you  haue  done  : 
And  quited  all  my  wrongs  by  Moone, 
Were  offred  in  the  Sunne. 


f^A  injl  mightie  one,  the  zveake  of Jire)igth 

^^  May  not  them-fehies  oppofe: 

For  if  they  doe,  tzvill  prone  at  length, 

To  wall  the  ^veakefl  goes. 

The  little fJirnbs  fnnfl  not  contend 

Againfl  the  taller  Trees, 

Nor  meaner  forte  feeke  to  offerid 

Their  betters  in  degrees. 

For  though  amongfl  their  ozune  conforts. 

Super iours  they  deride: 

A  nd  wrong  them  much  by  falfe  reports, 

At  length  Time  turnes  the  Tide. 

There  comes  a  change,  the  wils  they  wrought 

Infelfe  conceit  thought  good: 

May  be  in  thend  too  deerly  bought 

Euen  with  the  price  of  blood. 

ACobler  kept  a  fcuruye  Crowe, 
A  Bird  of  bafeft  kinde, 
And  paines  inough  he  did  beftowe 
To  worke  her  to  his  minde. 
At  length  he  taught  her  very  well 
To  fpeake  out  very  lowde : 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

God  fane  the  King,  and  troth  to  tel, 

The  Cobler  then  grew  prowde. 

She  was  too  good  to  hop  about 

Vpon  his  Olde-fhooe  ftall: 

But  he  vnto  the  Court  would  ftrout 

His  Bird  fliould  put  downe  all 

Their  paynted  Parrats,  So  he  went 

To  Ccefar  with  lacke-daivc, 

And  faid  to  him,  he  did  prefent 

Beft  Bird  that  ere  he  fawe. 

The  Monarch  gracious  minde  did  fhowe 

For  Coblers  poore  good  will : 

And  made  a  Courtier  of  the  Crowe, 

Where  he  remaind,  vntill 

He  ftanding  in  a  windowe,  fpy'd 

His  fellowes  flyc  along: 

And  knew  the  language  which  they  cry'd, 

Was  his  ovvne  mother  fong, 

Away  goes  he  the  way  they  went, 

And  altogether  flye, 

A  poore  dead  Horfe  to  teare  and  rent 

That  in  a  ditch  did  lye. 

When  they  had  fhar'd  him  to  the  bone 

Not  a  Crowes  mouthful  left: 

To  a  Corne- field  they  flye  each -one 

And  there  they  fall  to  theft. 

This  life  the  Coblers  Crowe  did  chufe, 

Pick's  lining  out  of  ftrawe : 

And  Courtly  dyet  did  refufe 

Euen  like  a  fooHfli  Dawe. 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

T  T EE  that  from  bafenes  doth  deriiie, 
•*■  -^    The  roote  of  his  difcent : 
And  by  preferment  cliaimce  to  thrme 
The  way  that  lack -daw  zvent: 
Whether  in  court  or  common  wealth. 
In  Cittie,  or  in  towne, 
How  ere  he  pledge  good  Fortunes  health, 
Heele  line  aiid  dye  a  Clozune, 
Daiues,  will  be  dawes,  though  gradd  in  court 
Crowes  will  to  carrion  flill. 
Like  ener  vnto  like  refort, 
The  bad  embrace  the  ill, 
And  though  euenfrom  a  Coblers  fiall, 
He  pur  chafe  land,  what  then. 
With  coblers  heele  conuerfe  with- all. 
Rather  then  better  men. 

THe  Lyon,  in  a  humour  once, 
As  with  his  pleafure  flood, 
Commaunded  that  on  paine  of  death, 
Home  beafts  fhould  voide  the  wood, 
Not  any  one  to  tarry  there, 
That  had  an  armed  head. 
This  was  no  fooner  publifh'd  forth 
But  many  hundreds  fled 
The  Hart,  the  Bucke,  the  Vnicorne, 
Ram,  Bull,  and  Goate  confent 
With  haft,  poft-hafh  to  run  away 
Their  daungers  to  preuent. 




Diogines  Lanthorne. 

With  this  fame  crew,  of  horned  kinde 

That  were  perplexed  fo 

A  beaft  conforts,  vpon  whofe  head, 

Only  a  Wenn  did  grow. 

The  Fox  met  him,  and  faid  thou  foole, 

Why  whether  doeft  thou  run? 

Marry  ( quoth  he )  to  faue  my  life 

Hear'ft  thou  not  what  is  done? 

Home  creatures  all  haue  banifhment 

And  muft  auoide  the  place, 

For  they  are  charg'd  vpon  their  Hues, 

Euen  by  the  Lyons  grace, 

Trew  { faid  the  Foxe )  I  know  it  well 

But  what  is  that  to  thee  ? 

Thou  haft  no  home,  thy  wen  is  flefh, 

T'is  euident  to  fee. 

I  graunt  ( quoth  he )  t'is  fo  ind^ede. 

Yet  nere-theleffe,  He  fly. 

For  if  t  be  taken  for  a  home 

Fray  in  what  cafe  am  I  ? 

Sure  ( faid  the  Fox )  it's  wifely  done 

I  blame  thee  not  in  this, 

For  many  wrongs  are  dayly  wrought, 

By  taking  thinges  amiffe. 


T/fT' Ife-men  will  eiier  doubt  the  worjl, 

In  what  they  take  in  hattd, 
And  feeke  that  free  from  allfnfpeSl, 
They  may  fecurely  ftand, 
Remouing  euery  leafi  offence , 
That  may  a  daimger  breed. 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

For  when  a  man  is  in  tJic  pit, 

It  is  to  late  take  heede 

If  mighty  men  doe  cenfiire  wrong, 

Hozv  Jltall  the  weake  rcfijl? 

It  is  in  vaine  contend  zuith  him 

That  can  doe  what  he  lijl, 

The  bejl  and  mojl  rcpofed  life, 

That  any  man  can  finde, 

Is  this;  to  keepe  his  confcience  free 

From  fpotted  guilty  minde. 

>«^Sauage  creature  chaunc'd  to  come, 
,Z~l  Where  ciuill  peopled  welt 
Whom  they  did  kindely  entertayne, 
And  curteous  with  him  delt. 
They  fed  him  with  their  choyceft  fare 
To  make  his  welcome  knowne, 
And  diuers  wayes,  their  humane  loue 
Was  to  the  wilde  man  fhowne. 
At  length  ( the  weather  being  colde ) 
One  of  them  blew  his  nayles, 
The  Sauage  afk'd  why  he  did  fo  ? 
And  what  his  fingers  ayles? 
Marry  ( quoth  he )  I  make  them  warme, 
That  are  both  colde  and  numme, 
And  fo  they  fet  them  downe  to  boord, 
For  fupper  time  was  come. 
The  man  that  blew  his  nayles  before, 
Vpon  his  broth  did  blow : 
Friend,  fayes  the  Sanage  what  meanes  this, 
I  pree  thee  let  me  know? 
My  broth  ( faid  he )  is  ouer  hot. 
And  I  doe  coole  it  thus : 

D  2  Fare- 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Farewell  ( quoth  he )  this  deede  of  thine 

For  euer  parteth  vs, 

Haft  thou  a  breath  blowes  hot  and  colde, 

Euen  at  thy  wifh  and  will? 

I  am  not  for  thy  company, 

Pray  keepe  thy  fupper  ftill 

And  heate  thy  hands,  and  coole  thy  broth 

As  I  haue  feene  thee  doo, 

Such  double  dealers  as  thy  felfe, 

I  haue  no  minde  vnto, 

But  will  retire  vnto  the  woods. 

Where  I  to-fore  haue  bin, 

Refoluing  euery  double  tongue 

Hath  hollow  hart  within. 


/t  Hcedefidl  care  wee  ought  to  haue, 
•^^^-    When  zuc  doe  f  rends  ele6l 
The  pleafeing  gejlure  and  good  ivordes 
Wee  arc  not  to  refpcfl, 
For  curicous  cariage  oftentimes 
May  hane  an  ill  intent: 
And gj-at ions  wordes  may  gracelejfe prone, 
Without  the  harts  confent. 
Let  all  auoyde  a  double  tongue 
For  in  it  thers  no  trujl, 
And  baniJJifuch  the  company, 
Of  honcji  men  meane  iufl: 
A  counterfeits  focietie 
Is  ncuer  free  from  daunger 
And  that  man  Hues  mofl  Jiappy  life, 
Can  Hue  to  fuel i  a  flraunger. 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

A /"A /"Hen  winters  rage,  and  cruell  ftormes, 

Of  euery  pleafant  tree, 
Had  made  the  boughs  ftarke  naked  all, 
As  bare,  as  bare  might  be, 
And  not  a  flower  left  in  field, 
Nor  greene  on  bufli  or  brier: 
But  all  was  rob'd  in  pitteous  plight, 
Of  Sommers  rich  attire. 
The  Graffe-hopper  in  great  diftreffe, 
Vnto  the  Ant  did  come 
And  faid  deere  friend  I  pine  for  foode, 
I  prethee  giue  me  fome. 
Thou  art  not  in  extreames  with  me, 
I  know  thy  euer  care 
For  winters  want,  and  hard  diftreffe 
In  Sommer  doth  prepare, 
Know'ft  thou  my  care,  replyd  the  Ant} 
And  doeft  thou  like  it  well? 
Wherefore  prouid'ft  not  thou  the  like? 
Pray  thee  Graffe-liopper  tell  ? 
Marry  ( faid  he )  the  Sommer  time 
I  pleafantly  doe  paffe. 
And  fmg  it  ont  moft  merily. 
In  the  delightfull  graffe, 
I  take  no  care  for  time  to  come. 
My  minde  is  on  my  fong, 
I  thinke  the  glorious  funne-ihine  dayes 
Are  euerlafting  long. 
When  thou  art  hording  vp  thy  foode, 
Againft  thefe  hungry  dayes 
Inclined  vnto  prouidence, 
Pleafure  I  onely  praife. 
This  is  the  caufe  I  come  to  thee, 
To  help  me  with  thy  ftore. 

D  3  Thou 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Thou  art  deceiu'd  friend  faid  the  Ant, 
I  labour'd  not  therefore. 
T'was  not  for  you  I  did  prouide, 
With  tedious  toyle-fome  paynes : 
But  that  my  felfe  of  labours  paft 
Might  haue  the  future  gaynes. 
Such  idle  ones  muft  buy  their  wit, 
T'is  beft  when  deerely  bought : 
And  note  this  leffon  to  your  fhame, 
Which  by  the  Ant  is  taught, 
If  Somnier  be  your  fmging  time, 
When  you  doe  merry  mako : 
Let  Winter  be  your  weeping  time, 
When  you  muft  pennance  take. 


JKlEglccl  not  time,  for  pretions  Time, 
•^   ^  Is  not  at  thy  com^nmmd, 
Bnt  in  thy  yonth  and  able  Jirength, 
Giue pronidence  thy  hand. 
Repofe  not  truji  in  others  helpe, 
For  when  miffortun's  fall, 
Thou  inayfl  complaine  and  pine  in  wajit, 
But  friends  ivill  vanifJi  all. 
Thefle  lieape  reproof  es  vpon  thy  head, 
A  nd  tell  thy  follies  paft: 
And  all  thy  a6les  of  negligence, 
Euen  in  thy  teeth  will  cafi: 
Thon  mighffl  haue  got,  thou  might' fl  haue  gain' d, 
And  lined  like  a  man: 
Thus  will  they  fpeake  filling  thy  foule, 
With  extreame pajjion  than: 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Preuent  this  fooliJJi  after  ivit, 
That  comes  when  fis  to  late: 
And  trnjl  7iot  onermiicJi  to  f rends, 
To  Jiclpe  thy  hard  ejiate. 
Make  youth  the  Sonimer  of  thy  life, 
And  therein  loyter  not: 
And  t hi) ike  the  Winter  of  aide  age, 
Willfpend  what  Sommer  got. 

/I  Luftie  begger  that  was  blind, 
-^  -*    But  very  ftrong  of  limbe: 
Agreed  with  one  was  lame  of  legges, 
That  he  would  carry  him. 
And  tother  was  to  guide  the  way, 
(  For  he  had  perfe6l  fight : ) 
Vpon  condition,  all  they  got, 
Should  ftill  be  fhar'd  at  night. 
So  as  they  chaunc'd  to  paffe  along, 
The  Cripple  that  had  eyes, 
Sitting  vpon  the  blind  mans  backe. 
On  ground  an  Oyfter  fpyes. 
Stoope  take  that  Oyfter  vp  ( quoth  he ) 
Which  at  thy  feete  lyes  there : 
And  fo  he  did,  and  put  it  in. 
The  fcripp  which  he  did  weare. 
But  going  on  a  little  way, 
Sayes  cripple,  to  the  blinde: 
Giue  me  the  Oyfter  thou  tookft  vp, 
I  haue  thereto  a  mynde. 
Not  fo  faid  tother  by  your  leaue. 
In  vaine  you  do  intreate  it: 
For  fure  I  keepe  it  for  my  felfe, 
And  doe  intend  to  eate-it, 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

He  haue  it  fir  the  Cripple  fwore, 

Who  fpide  it,  thou  or  I  ? 

If  that  I  had  not  feene,  and  fpoke 

Thou  wouldfl  haue  paffed  by. 

It  is  no  matter  faid  the  blind 

Thou  know'fl  it  might  haue  lyen, 

Had  I  not  ftoopt  and  tooke  it  vp 

Therefore  it  fhall  be  mine. 

And  fo  they  hotly  fell  to  wordes, 

And  out  in  choller  brake 

With  thou  lame  rogue,  and  thou  blind  knaue. 

Not  caring  what  they  fpake. 

At  length  it  happen'd  one  came  by 

And  heard  them  thus  contend, 

And  did  entreat  them,  both  that  he, 

Might  this  their  difcord  end. 

They  yeild,  and  fay  it  fhall  be  fo. 

Then  he  Inquiring  all. 

Did  heare  their  league,  and  how  about 

An  Oyfler  they  did  brail. 

Said  he,  my  mayfters  let  me  f(6e 

This  Oyfber  makes  fuch  ftrife, 

The  blindman  forthwith  gaue  it  him 

Who  prefent  drew  his  knife, 

And  ope'ning  it,  eate  vp  the  fame, 

Giuing  them  each  a  fliell 

And  faid  good  fellowes  now  be  freinds, 

I  haue  your  fifli.  Farewell. 

The  beggers  both  deluded  thus, 

At  their  owne  folly  fmilde, 

And  faid  one  fubtill  crafty  knaue, 

Had  two  poore  fooles  beguilde. 

For  v»j  v\t5   c«>L<t-fD    v^t  l.irTi,fe   Y-vt^-^-^ 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 


J/'T/'Hen  men  for  trifles  ivill  contend, 

And  vainely  dif agree: 
That  oftefor  nothing  friend  and  friend, 
At  daggers  draxving  be. 
When  no  difcretion  there  is  vfUe, 
To  qiialifie  offence: 
Bnt  reafon  is  by  will  abufd, 
And  anger  doth  incenfc. 
When  fonie  in  fury  feeke  their  wifh, 
Andfome  in  mallice  fzvels : 
Perhaps  fome  Laivyer  takes  the  Fifli, 
And  leaiies  his  clyent  JJiels. 
Then  when  their  folly  once  appear es, 
They  oner  late  coviplayne: 
And  tuiflt  the  wit  of  fore -gone  y  cares, 
Were  noiv  to  buy  againe. 

T/T/'\thm  a  groue,  a  gallant  groue, 

That  wore  greene  Sommers  fute, 
An  Oxe,  an  Affe,  an  Ape,  a  Fox, 
Each  other  kinde  falute. 
And  louingly  like  friends  embrace, 
And  much  good  manners  vfe: 
At  length  fayes  th'  Oxe,  vnto  the  Affe, 
I  pray  thee  friend  what  newes? 
The  Affe  look'd  fad,  and  thus  reply'd, 
No  newes  at  all  quoth  he : 
But  I  grow  euer  difcontent, 
When  I  doe  meete  with  thee. 

E  The 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

The  Oxe  look'd  ftrange,  and  flepping  back, 

Quoth  he  deere  neighbour  Affe: 

Haue  I  wrong'd  thee  in  all  my  life, 

MouthfuU  of  Hay  or  Graffe? 

Affure  thy  felfe  if  that  I  had, 

T'would  greeue  me  very  much : 

No  kinde  bedfellow  faid  the  Affe, 

My  meaning  is  not  fuch. 

On  Jupiter  I  doe  complayne, 

T'is  he  wrongs  me  alone : 

In  arming  thee  with  thofe  large  homes. 

And  I  poore  wretch  haue  none. 

Thou  wearft  two  weapons  on  thy  head, 

Thy  body  to  defend : 

Againft  the  ftouteft  dogge  that  barkes, 

Thou  boldly  dar'ft  contend. 

When  I  haue  nothing  but  my  fkinne, 

With  two  long  foolifh  eares, 

And  not  the  bafeft  Goofe  that  Hues, 

]\Iy  hate  or  fury  feares. 

This  makes  me  fad  and  dull,  and  flow, 

And  of  a  heauy  pace : 

When  eu'ry  fcuruy  fhepheards  curr, 

Doth  braue  me  to  my  face. 

Sure  quoth  the  Ape,  as  thou  art  gr^eu'd, 

So  I  hard  dealing  finde : 

Looke  on  the  Fox,  and  looke  on  me, 

Pray  view  vs  well  behinde. 

And  thou  wilt  fweare,  I  know  thou  wilt. 

Except  thy  eye-fight  fayles: 

That  Nature  lack'd  a  payre  of  eyes. 

When  file  made  both  our  tayles. 

I  wonder  what  her  reafon  was, 

To  alter  thus  our  fliapes: 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Tiler's  not  a  Fox,  but  hath  a  tayle, 

Would  ferue  a  dozen  Apes. 

Yet  we  thou  feeft  goe  bare-arfe  all, 

For  each  man  to  deride : 

I  tell  thee  brother  Affe  I  blufli, 

To  fee  mine  owne,  back  e- fide. 

I  muft  endure  a  thoufand  lefts, 

A  thoufand  fcoffes  and  fcornes : 

Nature  deales  bad  with  me  for  tayle, 

And  hard  with  thee  for  homes. 

With  this  the  ground  began  to  fbirr, 

And  forth  a  little  hole, 

A  creeping  foure  legg'd  creature  came, 

A  thing  is  call'd  a  Mole. 

Quoth  he  my  mayfters  I  haue  heard, 

What  faults  you  two  doe  finde : 

B'out  Tayle  and  Homes,  pray  looke  on  me. 

By  Nature  formed  blinde. 

You  haue  no  caufe  thus  to  complaine, 

Of  your,  and  your  defe6l. 

Nor  vfe  dame  Nature  hard  with  wordes. 

If  me  doe  you  refpe6l. 

The  things  for  which  you  both  complaine, 

Are  vnto  me  deni'de: 

And  that  with  patience  I  endure. 

And  more,  am  blind  befide. 


JJ/'Ee  oiigJit  complaine,  repine  and grndge 

At  our  dijlike  ejlate: 
And  deeme  onrf clues,  (  our  fe lues  not  pleafd  ) 
To  be  vnfortunate. 

E    2  Now 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

None  marck'd  zvitJi  more  cxtreame  then  wee^ 
None  plnng'd  inforrowfo: 
When  not  by  thonfand parts  of  ivant, 
Our  neighbours  grief cs  ive  knoio. 
Mofl  nieft  that  Jiaiie  fufficiencie, 
To  feme  for  natures  neede: 
Doe  wrong  the  God  of  Nature, 
And  vngratefidly  proceede. 
They  looke  on  others  greater  giftes, 
And  enuioufly  complaine: 
When  thoufands  wanting  ivhat  they  hatie, 
Contended  doe  remaine. 

'V  ^H'  Aftrononicr  by  night  did  Avalke, 

■^      (  He  and  his  Globe  together:) 
Hauing  great  bufines  with  the  ftarres, 
About  the  next  yeares  weather 
He  did  examine  all  the  fky, 
For  tempefts,  winde,  and  raine : 
And  what  difeafes  were  to  come, 
The  plannets  told  him  plaine. 
The  difpofition  of  the  Spring, 
The  flate  of  Sommer  tide: 
The  Harueft  fruit,  and  Winters  froft, 
Moft  plainely  he  efpide. 
He  did  conferr  with  lupiter, 
Saturne  and  all  the  Seauen: 
And  grew  exceeding  bufie,  with 
Twelue  houfes  of  the  heauen. 
But  while  with  ftaring  eyes  he  lookes, 
What  newes  the  ftarres  could  tell : 
Vpan  the  fodaine  downc  he  comes, 
Headlong  into  a  well. 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Helpe  helpe,  he  calls  or  elfe  I  drowne, 

Oh  helpe,  he  flill  did  cry: 

Vntill  it  chaunc'd  fome  paffengers, 

Came  very  early  by. 

And  hearing  him,  did  helpe  him  out, 

In  a  drown'd  moufes  cafe: 

Then  queftion'd  with  him  how  he  came, 

In  that  fame  colde  wet  place. 

Marry  ( quoth  he )  I  look'd  on  hie, 

Not  thinking  of  the  ground : 

And  tumbled  in  this  fcuruy  Well, 

Where  I  had  like  bin  drownd. 

Which  when  they  heard  and  knew  his  art 

They  fmyling  faid,  friend  ftraunger.-* 

Wilt  thou  fore -tell  thinges  are  to  come. 

And  knowefl  not  prefent  daunger. 

Haft  thou  an  eye  for  heauen,  and 

For  earth  fo  little  wit : 

That  while  thou  gazeft  after  ftarres, 

To  tumble  in  a  pit.-* 

Wilt  thou  tell  ( looking  ore,  thy  head ) 

What  weather  it  will  be.'' 

And  deadly  daunger  at  thy  foote. 

Thou  haft  no  eyes  to  fee.'' 

We  giue  no  credit  to  thy  Art, 

Nor  doe  efteeme  thee  wife: 

To  tumble  headlong  in  a  Well, 

With  gazing  in  the  fkyes. 




Any  ivith  this  AJlronomer, 
Great  knowledge  will  pretend: 

E      3  Thofe 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Thofe  giftes  tJiey  Jiaue,  tlicir  JiaugJity  pride. 
Will  to  the  skyes  commend. 
Their  lookes  mnjl  be  a/piring, 
(  For  ambition  ay  vies  on  hye  ) 
Fortims  adiianncenients  make  them  dreame, 
Of  Cajlcls  in  the  sky. 
But  zvhile  beivitching  vanity, 
Deludes  them  zvith  renoivne: 
A  fodaine  alteration,  zvith 
A  vengeance  pulles  them  dozvne. 
Afid  then  the  vieanejl  fort  of  men, 
Whom  they  doe  abie6l  call: 
Will  fland  in  fcorne,  and  point  them  ont, 
And  cenfure  of  their  fall. 

X^Reat  Alexander  came  to  fee 
^^  My  manfion,  being  a  Tun : 
And  ftood  dire6lly  oppofite, 
Betweene  me,  and  the  Sun. 
Morrow  ( quoth  he )  Philofopher, 
I  yeild  thee  time  of  day: 
Marry  ( faid  I )  then  Emperour, 
I  preethee  fland  away. 
For  thou  dcpriueft  me  of  that, 
Thy  powre  hath  not  to  giue : 
Nor  all  thy  mighty  fellow  Kings, 
That  on  earth's  Foote-ball  Hue. 
Stand  backe  I  fay,  and  rob  me  not, 
To  wrong  me  in  my  right : 
The  Sunne  would  fhine  vpon  me, 
But  thou  tak'ft  away  his  light. 
With  this  he  ftept  afidc  from  me, 
And  fmiling  did  entreat: 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

That  I  would  be  a  Courtier, 

For  he  liked  my  conceit. 

He  haue  thy  houfe  brought  nie  my  Court, 

I  like  thy  vaine  fo  well: 

A  neighbour  very  neere  to  me, 

I  meane  to  haue  thee  dwell. 

If  thou  beftow  that  paine  ( quoth  I ) 

Pray  when  the  worke  is  don : 

Remoue  thy  Court,  and  carry  that, 

A  good  way  from  my  Tun. 

I  care  not  for  thy  neighbour-hood, 

Thy  treafure,  trafh  I  hold: 

I  doe  efteeme  my  Lanterne  home, 

Af  much  as  all  thy  gold. 

The  coftlyeft  cheere  that  earth  affords, 

( Take  Sea  and  Ayre  to  boote ) 

I  make  farre  leffe  account  thereof, 

Then  of  a  Carret-roote. 

For  all  the  robes  vpon  thy  backe. 

So  coftly,  rich,  and  ftraunge :  (weare 

This  plaine  poore  gowne,  thou  feeft  me 

Thred-bare,  I  will  not  chaunge. 

For  all  the  Pearle  and  pretious  Stones, 

That  is  at  thy  command : 

I  will  not  giue  this  little  Booke, 

That  heere  is  in  my  hand. 

For  all  the  citties,  countries,  townes. 

And  Kingdomes  thou  haft  got : 

I  will  not  giue  this  empty  Tun, 

For  I  regard  them  not. 

Nay  if  thou  would'dft  exchaunge  thy  crowne 

For  this  fame  Cap  I  weare : 

Or  giue  thy  Scepter  for  my  Staffe, 

I  would  not  do't  I  fweare. 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Doeft  {6e  this  tubb?     I  tell  thee  man, 

It  is  my  common  wealth: 

Doeft  fee  yon  water?  tis  the  Wine? 

Doth  keepe  me  found  in  health. 

Doeft  fee  thefe  rootes  that  grow  about, 

The  place  of  my  abode? 

Thefe  are  the  dainties  which  I  eate, 

My  back'd,  my  rofte,  my  fod. 

Doeft  fee  my  fmiple  three -foote  ftoole? 

It  is  my  chayre  of  ftate : 

Doeft  fee  my  poore  plaine  woodden  difli? 

It  is  my  filuer  plate : 

Do'ft  fee  my  Wardrope?  then  beholde 

This  patched  feame-rent  gowne: 

Doeft  fee  you  mat  and  bull-ruflies? 

Why  th'are  m}^  bed  of  downe. 

Thou  count'ft  me  poore  and  beggerly, 

Alas  good  carefull  King: 

When  thou  art  often  fighing  fad, 

I  cheerefull  fit  and  fmg. 

Content  dwels  not  in  Pallaces, 

And  Courts  of  mighty  men: 

For  if  it  did,  affure  thy  felfe, 

I  would  turne  Courtier  then. 

No  Alcxajidcr  th'art  decciu'd. 

To  cenfure  of  me  fo : 

That  I  my  fweet  contented  life, 

For  troubles  will  forgo: 

Of  a  repofed  life  tis  I, 

Can  make  a  iuft  report : 

That  haue  more  vertues  in  my  Tun, 

Then  is  in  all  thy  Court. 

For  what  yeilds  that  but  vanitie. 

Ambition,  Enuie,  pride : 



Diogines  Lanthorne: 

Opprefllon,  wronges  and  cruelty, 
Nay  euery  thing  befide. 
Thefe  are  not  for  my  company, 
He  rather  dwell  thus  odde: 
Who-eiier  walkes  aniongji  Jliarp  thorn es. 
Had  need  to  goe  well  Jliodde. 
On  mighty  men  I  cannot  fawne, 
Let  Flat'ry  crouch  and  creep: 
The  world  is  nought,  and  that  man's  wife 
Leaft  League  with  it  doth  keep. 
A  Crowne  is  heauy  wearing,  King 
It  makes  thy  head  to  ake: 
Great  Alexander,  great  accounts 
Thy  greatnes  hath  to  make. 
Who  feeketh  reft,  and  for  the  fame 
Doth  to  thy  Court  repayre : 
Is  wife  like  him  that  in  an  Egge 
Doth  feeke  to  finde  a  Hare. 
If  thou  hadft  all  the  world  thine  owne. 
That  world  would  not  fuffice: 
Thou  art  an  Eagle,  mighty  man, 
And  Eagles  catch  no  Flyes. 
I  like  thee  for  thy  pacience  well. 
Which  thou  doeft  fhowe,  to  heare  me : 
He  teach  thee  fomwhat  for  thy  paynes, 
Drawe  but  a  little  neare  me: 
Some  honeft  Prouerbs  that  I  haue, 
Vpon  thee  He  beftowe: 
Thou  didft  not  come  fo  wife  to  me 
As  thou  art  like  to  goe. 

He  that  performes  not  what  he  ought 
But  doth  the  fame  neglefl : 
Let  him  be  fure  not  to  receiue 
The  thing  he  doth  expecl. 

F  When 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

When  oncy  the  tall  and  loftye  Tree 
Vnto  the  ground  doth  fall : 
Why  euery  Peffant  hath  an  Axe 
To  hewe  his  boughes  withall. 

He  that  for  vertue  merrits  well 
And  yet  doth  nothing  clayme: 
A  double  kinde  of  recompence 
Deferueth  for  the  fame. 

Acquaint  me  but  with  whom  thou  goeft 
And  thy  companions  tell, 
I  will  refolue  thee  what  thou  doeft, 
Whether  ill  done  or  well. 

He  knows  enough  that  knoweth  nought 
If  he  can  filence  keepe: 
The  Tongue  oft  makes  the  Hart  to  figh, 
The  Eyes  to  wayle  and  weepe. 

He  takes  the  beft  and  choyfeft  courfe 
Of  any  men  doth  Hue: 
That  takes  good  counfel,  when  his  freind 
Doth  that  rich  lewell  giue. 

Good  horfe  and  bad,  the  Ryder  fayes, 
Muft  both  of  them  haue  Spurres: 
And  he  is  fure  to  rife  with  Fleaes 
That  lyes  to  fleepe  with  Curres. 

He  that  more  kindnes  fheweth  thee 
Then  thou  art  vf'd  vnto, 
Eyther  already  hath  dcceiu'd 
Or  fliortly  meanes  to  do. 



Diogines  Lanthorne: 

Birds  of  a  feather  and  a  kinde, 
Will  ftill  together  flocke : 
He  need  be  very  flraight  him-felfe 
That  doth  the  crooked  mocke. 

I  haue  obferued  diuers  times 
Of  all  fortes  Olde  and  Young : 
That  he  which  hath  the  leffer  hart 
Hath  ftill  the  bigger  tongue. 

He  that's  a  bad  and  wickedman 
Appeering  good  to  th'eye : 
May  doe  thee  many  thoufand  wronges 
Which  thou  canft  neuer  fpye. 

In  prefent  want,  deferre  not  him 
Which  doth  thy  help  require: 
The  water  that  is  farre  off  fetch'd 
Quencheth  not  neyghbours  fire. 

He  that  hath  money  at  his  will, 
Meate,  Drincke,  and  leyfure  takes. 
But  he  that  lackes,  muft  mend  his  pace, 
Neede  a  good  foot -man  makes. 

He  that  the  office  of  a  friend 
Vprightly  doth  refpe6l : 
Muft  firmly  loue  his  friend  profeft 
With  faulte,  and  his  defeft. 

He  that  enjoyes  a  white  Horfe,  and 
A  fayre  and  dainty  wife : 
Muft  needes  finde  often  caufe,  by  each 
Of  difcontent  and  ftrife. 




Diogines  Lanthorne. 

Chufe  thy  companyons  of  the  good, 
Or  elfe  conuerfe  with  none : 
Rather  then  ill  accompaned, 
Farre  better  be  alone. 

Watch  ouer  wordes,  for  from  the  mouth 
There  hath  much  cuill  fprunge: 
T'is  better  ftumble  with  thy  feet 
Then  ftumble  with  thy  tongue. 

Not  outward  habite,  Vertue  'tis 
That  doth  aduaunce  thy  fame: 
The  golden  brydle  betters  not 
A  lade  that  weares  the  fame. 

The  greateft  loyes  that  euer  were, 
At  length  with  forowe  meetes : 
Tafte  Hony  with  thy  fingers  end 
And  furfet  not  on  fweetes, 

A  Lyer  can  doe  more  then  much, 
Worke  wonders  by  his  lyes : 
Turne  Mountaynes  into  Mole-hils 
And  huge  Elaphants  to  Flyes. 

Children  that  are  vnfortunate, 
Their  Parents  alwaies  prayfe : 
And  attribute  all  thriftines 
Vnto  their  fore -gone  dayes. 

When  Sicknes  enters  Healths  ftrong  hold 
And  Life  begins  to  yeild : 
Mans  forte  of  Flefh  to  parley  comes, 
And  Death  muft  winne  the  field. 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

The  Flatterer  before  thy  face 
With  fmiling  lookes  will  ftand: 
Prefenting  Hony  in  his  mouth, 
A  Razor  in  his  hande. 

The  truly  Noble-minded,  loues, 
The  bafe  and  feruile  feares: 
Who-euer  tels  a  foole  a  tale, 
Had  need  to  finde  him  eares. 

To  medle  much  with  idle  thinges, 
Would  vex  a  wife  mans  head : 
Tis  labour,  and  a  weary  worke 
To  make  a  Dog  his  bed. 

The  worft  wheele  euer  of  the  Cart, 
Doth  yeild  the  greateft  noyce: 
Three  women  make  a  Market,  for 
They  haue  fufficient  voyce. 

Firft  leafe  all  Fooles  defire  to  learne 
With  ftedfaft  fixed  eyes: 
Is  this :  A II  other  Idiots  are, 
And  they  exceeding  wife. 

When  once  the  Lyon  breathles  lyes, 
Whome  all  the  Forrefl  fear'd : 
The  very  Hares,  prefumptuoufly 
Will  pull  him  by  the  beard. 

Ceafe  not  to  doe  the  good  thou  oughtft, 
Though  inconuenience  growe : 
A  wife  man  will  not  Seed-time  loofe 
For  feare  of  euery  Crowe. 

F3  On 


Diogines  Lanthorne. 

One  man  can  neuer  doe  fo  well 
But  fome  man  will  him  blame: 
Tis  vayne  to  feeke  pleafe  cuery  man, 
loue  cannot  doe  the  fame. 

To  him  that  is  in  mifery 

Do  not  affli6lion  adde : 

With  forowe  to  load  forowes  backe, 

Is  moft  extreamly  badde. 

Showe  me  good  fruit  on  euill  trees, 
Or  Rofe  that  growes  on  Thiftle : 
He  vndertake  at  fight  therof, 
To  drincke  to  thee  and  whifble. 

Cenfure  what  confcience  refts  in  him, 
That  fweares  he  luftice  loues; 
And  yet  doth  pardon  hurtfull  Crowes, 
To  punifh  fimple  Doues. 

There's  many,  that  to  aske,  might  haue, 
By  their  ode  filence  croft/ 
What  charge  is  fpcech  vnto  thy  tongue  ? 
By  asking,  pra'y  whats  loft  ? 

He  ferues  for  nothig,  that  is  luft 
And  faithfull  in  his  place : 
Yet  for  his  dutie  well  perform'd, 
Is  not  a  whit  in  grace. 

He  makes  him-felfe  an  others  flaue. 
And  feares  doth  vnder-goe; 
That  vnto  one  being  ignorant, 
Doth  his  owne  fecrets  fhow. 



Diogines  Lanthorne. 

On  Neptune  wrongfull  he  complaynes 
That  oft  hath  bene  in  daunger: 
And  yet  to  his  deuouring  waues 
Doth  not  become  a  ftraunger. 

Age  is  an  honourable  thing, 

And  yet  though  yeares  be  fo, 

For  one  wife -man  with  hoary  hayres, 

Three  dozen  fooles  I  knowe. 





Imprinted  by  Ed.  Allde  for  William  Fere- 

brand  and  are  to  be  fold  at  his  Shop  in 

the  popes-head  Pallace,  right  oner  a- 

gainft  the  Tauerne-dore. 


To  his  verie  Lotting  Friend  Majler 

George  Lee. 

Esteemed  friend y  I  pray  thee  take  it  kinde, 
That  outward  a6liou  bearcs  an  inward  minde, 
What  ohie£ls  heere  thefe  papers  do  deliiier, 
Bejiow  the  viewing  of  tliem  for  the  giiier. 
I  make  thee  a  partaker  of  firange  fights, 
Drawne  antique  works  of  humours  vaine  delights. 
A  mirrour  of  the  mad  coneeitedfliapes, 
Of  this  our  ages  giddy-headed  apes, 
Thefe  fafli  on  mongers,  fclfe  bcfottcd  meji 
Of  kindred  to  the  fowle  that  zuore  my  pen, 
Are  at  an  hozvers  warning  to  appear e. 
And  miifier  i^i  fixe  fJteetes  of  Paper  heere. 
And  this  is  all  at  this  time  I  befloiv. 
To  euidence  a  greater  loue  I  owe. 

Yours  Samvel  Rowlands. 

A    2 


As  many  antique  faces  paffe, 
From  Barbers  cliaire  vnto  his  glaffe, 
There  to  beholde  their  kinde  of  trim, 
And  how  they  are  reform'd  by  him, 
Or  at  Exchang  where  Marchants  greete, 
Confufion  of  the  tongues  do  meete. 
As  Englijli,  French,  Italian,  DiitcJi, 
Spanish,  and  Scofsh,  with  diuers  fuch. 
So  from  the  Preffe  thefe  papers  come 
V    To  fhow  the  humorous  fliapes  of  fome. 
Heere  are  fuch  faces  good  and  bad, 
As  in  a  Barbers  fliop  are  had, 
And  heere  are  tongues  of  diuers  kindes, 
According  to  the  fpeakers  mindes. 
Beholde  their  fafliions,  heare  their  voice. 
And  let  difcretion  make  thy  choice. 




0  Ome  man  that  to  contention  is  incHn'de ; 
*^With  any  thing  he  fees,  a  fault  wil  finde, 
As,  that  is  not  fo  good,  the  fame's  amiffe, 

1  haue  no  great  affe6lion  vnto  this. 
Now  I  protefl  I  doe  not  like  the  fame, 
This  muft  be  mended,  that  deferueth  blame, 
It  were  farre  better  fuch  a  thing  were  out, 
This  is  obfcure,  and  that's  as  full  of  doubt. 
And  much  adoe,  and  many  words  are  fpent 
In  finding  out  the  path  that  humours  went, 
And  for  dire6lion  to  that  Idle  way 

Onely  a  bufie  tongue  bears  all  the  fway. 
The  difh  that  Aefope  did  commend  for  beft; 
Is  now  a  dales  in  wonderfull  requeft. 
But  if  you  finde  fault  on  a  certaine  ground, 
Weele  fall  to  mending  when  the  fault  is  found, 

A  3 



PRa'y  by  your  leaue,  make  moufieur  humors  roome 
That   oft  hath  walk'd   about   Duke   Humphries 
And  fat  amongft  the  Knights  to  fee  a  play,       (tombe 
And  gone  in's  fuite  of  Sattin  eu'ry  day, 
And  had  his  hat  difplay  a  bufhie  plume, 
And's  verie  beard  deliuer  forth  perfume. 
But  when  was  this  ?  aske  Frier  Bacons  head 
That  anfwered  Time  is paji,  O  time  is  fled! 
Sattin  and  filke  was  pawned  long  agoe, 
And  now  in  canuafe,  no  knight  can  him  knowe. 
His  former  ftate,  in  dark  obliuion  fleepes, 
Onely  Paules  Gallarie,  that  walke  he  keepes. 


CRoffc  not  my  humor,  with  an  ill  plac'd  worde, 
For  if  thou  doeft,  behold  my  fatall  fworde : 
Do'ft  fee  my  countenance  begin  looke  red  ? 
Let  that  fore-tell  thcr's  furic  in  my  lied. 
A  little  difcontent  will  quickely  heate  it. 
Touch  not  my  ftake,  thou  wert  as  good  to  eate  it, 
Thefe  damned  dice  how  curfed  they  deuoure : 
I  loft  fome  halfe  fcore  pound  in  halfe  an  houre. 

A  bowle 

A  bowle  of  wine,  firha :  you  villaine,  fill : 
Who  drawes  it  Rafcall?  call  me  hether  IVil/. 
You  Rogue,  what  ha' ft  to  Supper  for  my  dyet  ? 
Tel'ft  me  of  Butchers  meate?  knaue  I  defie  it. 
He  haue  a  banquet  to  enuite  an  Earle, 
A  Phoenix  boyld  in  broth  diftil'd  in  Pearle. 
Holde  drie  this  leafe,  a  candle  quickly  bring, 
He  take  one  pipe  to  bed,  none  other  thing. 
Thus  with  Tahacco  he  will  fup  to  night: 
Flefli-meate  is  heauie,  and  his  purfe  is  light. 


TWo  Gentlemen  of  hot  and  fierie  fprite, 
Tooke  boate,  and  went  vp  Weftward  to  goe  fight 
Imbarked  both,  for  Wenf-worth  they  fet  faile, 
And  there  ariuing  with  a  happie  gaile. 
The  Water-men  difcharged  for  their  fare, 
Then  to  be  parted,  thus  their  mindes  declare. 
Pray  Ores  (faid  they)  ftay  heere  and  come  not  nie, 
We  goe  to  fight  a  little,  but  heere  by. 
The  Water-men  with  ftaues  did  follow  then, 
And  cryd,  oh  holde  your  hands  good  Gentlemen, 
You  know  the  danger  of  the  law,  forbeare : 
So  they  put  weapons  vp  and  fell  to  fweare. 





Nc  of  thefe  Cuccold-making  Queanes 

did  graft  her  hufbands  head : 
who  arm'd  with  anger,  fteele  and  home 
would  kill  him  flain'd  his  bed, 
And  challeng'd  him  vnto  the  field, 
Vowing  to  haue  his  life, 
Where  being  met,  firha  (quoth  he,) 
I  doe  fufpe6l  my  Wife 
Is  fcarce  fo  honeft  as  flie  fliould. 
You  make  of  her  fome  vfc : 
Indeed  faid  he  I  loue  her  well, 
He  frame  no  falfe  excufe. 
O !  d'ye  confeffe  ?  by  heauens  (quoth  he) 
Had'ft  thou  deni'de  thy  guilt. 
This  blade  had  gone  into  thy  guts, 
Euen  to  the  verie  Hilt, 



/'"^Ccafion  late  was  minilired  for  one  to  trie  his  friend, 
^-^  Ten  pounds  he  did  intreat  him  y'of  all  lone  hewould 
Hiscafewasanaccurfed  cafe,  no  comfort  tobe  found,  (led 
Vnles  he  friendly  drew  his  purfe,  &blefl:  him  with  te  poud 
He  did  proteft  he  had  it  not,  making  a  folemne  vow, 
He  wated  means  &  money  both,  to  do  him  pleafure  now. 
The  fir  (quoth  he)  you  know  I  haue  a  Gelding  I  loue  wel, 
Neceffitie  it  hath  no  law,  I  muft  my  Gelding  fell, 
I  haue  bin  offered  twelue  for  him,  with  ten  ile  be  cotent, 
Well  I  will  trie  a  friend  (faid  he,)  it  was  his  chefl:  he  ment. 
So  fc6lch'd  the  money  prefently,tother  fees  Angels  fliine 
Now  God  amercyhorfe  (quoth  he)  thycredit's  more  then 





Dice  diuing  deepe  into  a  Ruffians  purfe, 
Leaning  it  nothing  worth  but  firings  and  leather : 
He  prefently  did  fall  to  fweare  and  curfe, 
That's  life  and  money  he  would  loofe  together, 
Tooke  of  his  hat,  and  fwore,  let  me  but  fee 
What  Rogue  dares  fay  this  fame  is  blacke  to  me? 

Another  loft,  and  he  did  money  lackc, 
And  thus  his  furie  in  a  heate  reuiues: 
Where  is  that  Rogue  denies  his  hat  is  blacke? 
He  fight  with  him,  had  he  ten  thoufand  lines. 
Oh  fir  (quoth  he)  in  troth  you  come  too  late, 
Choller  is  paft,  my  anger's  out  of  date. 


AKinde  of  Loiidon-w^Sk.'^x  in  a  boote, 
(Not  George  a  Horfe-backe,  but  a  Gerge  a  foote,) 
On  eu'ry  day  you  meete  him  through  the  yeare, 
For's  bootes  and  fpurs,  a  horfe-man  doth  appeare. 
Was  met  with,  by  an  odde  conceited  ftrangcr. 
Who  friendly  told  him  that  he  walk'd  in  danger. 


For  Sir  (in  kindenes  no  way  to  offend  you) 
There  is  a  warrant  foorth  to  apprehend  you. 
Th'offence  they  fay,  you  riding  through  thee  ftreete, 
Haue  kil'd  a  Childe,  vnder  your  Horfes  feete. 
Sir  I  proteft  (quoth  he)  they  doe  me  wrong, 
I  haue  not  back'd  a  horfe,  God  knows  how  long, 
What  flaues  be  thefe,  they  haue  me  falfe  bely'd? 
lie  prooue  this  twelue-month  I  did  neuer  ride. 


"^  T'\  THat  feather'd  fowle  is  this  that  doth  approach 

V     V  As  if  it  were  an  EJlredge  in  a  Coach .'' 
Three  yards  of  feather  round  about  her  hat, 
And  in  her  hand  a  bable  like  to  that : 
As  full  of  Birdes  attire,  as  Owle,  or  Goofe, 
And  like  vnto  her  gowne,  her  felfe  feemes  loofe. 
Cri'ye  mercie  Ladie,  lewdnes  are  you  there.'' 
Light  feather'd  ftuffe  befits  you  beft  to  weare. 

B  2  A  Poore 

A  deafe  eare^  in  a  mjl  cmife. 

A  Poore  man  came  vnto  a  ludge&fhew'd  his  wronged 
■^^•Entreating  him  for  lefus  fake  to  be  compaffionate, 
Thewrogs  were  great  he  did  fuftaine.he  had  no  help  at  al 
The  ludge  fat  ftil  as  if  the  man  had  fpoken  to  the  wall. 
With  that  cametworude  fellows  in,tohauea  matter  tride 
About  an  Affe,that  one  had  let  the  other  for  to  ride:  (by, 
Which  Affe  the  owner  found  in  field, as  he  by  chance  pafl 
And  he  that  hired  him  a  fleepc  did  in  the  fhadow  lye. 
For  which  he  would  be  fatisfied,his  beaft  was  but  to  ride : 
And  for  the  fhadow  of  his  Affe,  he  would  be  paid  befide. 
Great  raging  words,  and  damned  othes, 

thefe  two  affe-wrangles  fwore,  (fore 

Whe  prefently  the  ludge  ftart  vp,  that  feem'd  a  fleep  be- 
And  heard  y*  follies  willingly  of  thefe  two  fottifh  men, 
But  bad  the  poore  mancomeagaine,hehad  noleafurethe. 

A  lolly 


A  lolly  fellow  Effex  borne  and  bred, 
-C^A  Farmers  Sonne,  his  Father  being  dead, 
T'expell  his  griefe  and  melancholly  pafsions, 
Had  vowd  himfelfe  to  trauell  and  fee  falhions. 
His  great  mindes  obiecl  was  no  trifling  toy. 
But  to  put  downe  the  wandring  Prince  of  Troy. 
Londons  difcouerie  firft  he  doth  decide, 
His  man  muft  be  his  Pilot  and  his  guide. 
Three  miles  he  had  not  part,  there  he  mufl  fit: 
He  ask't  if  he  were  not  neere  London  yet? 
His  man  replies  good  Sir  your  felfe  befturre, 
For  we  haue  yet  to  goe  fixe  times  as  farre. 
Alas  I  had  rather  flay  at  home  and  digge, 
I  had  not  thought  the  worlde  was  halfe  fo  bigge. 
Thus  this  great  worthie  comes  backe  (thoewith  flrife) 
He  neuer  was  fo  farre  in  all  his  life. 
None  of  the  feauen  worthies :  on  his  behalfe, 
Say,  was  not  he  a  worthie  Effex  Calfe.'* 

B  3  A  Gentleman. 


The  Humors  that  hatmt  a  Wife. 

A  Gentleman  a  verie  friend  of  mine, 
Hath  a  young  wife  and  fhc  is  monftrous  fine, 
Shee's  of  the  new  fantaftique  humor  right, 
In  her  attire  an  angell  of  the  h'ght. 
Is  fhe  an  Angell?  I:  it  may  be  well, 
Not  of  the  light,  fhe  is  a  light  Angell. 
Forfooth  his  doore  muft  fufifcr  alteration, 
To  entertaine  her  mightie  huge  Bom-fafhion, 
A  hood's  to  bafe,  a  hat  which  flie  doth  male. 
With  braueft  feathers  in  the  Eftridge  tayle. 
She  fcornes  to  treade  our  former  proud  wiues  traces. 
That  put  their  glory  in  their  on  faire  faces, 
In  her  conceit  it  is  not  faire  enough, 
She  muft  reforme  it  with  her  painters  ftuffc, 
And  file  is  neuer  merry  at  the  heart, 
Till  fhe  be  got  into  her  leatherne  Cart. 
Some  halfe  amile  the  Coach-man  guides  the  raynes, 
Then  home  againe,  birladie  flic  takes  paines. 
My  friend  feeing  what  humours  haunt  a  wife. 
If  he  were  loofe  would  lead  a  fmglc  life. 



A  poore  Mans  pollicy. 

NExt  I  will  tell  you  of  a  poore  mans  tricke, 
Which  he  did  pra6life  with  a  poUiticke, 
This  poore  man  had  a  Cow  twas  all  his  ftocke, 
Which  on  the  Commons  fed :  w^here  Catell  flocke, 
The  other  had  a  fteere  a  wanton  Beafb, 
Which  he  did  turne  to  feede  amongft  the  reft. 
Which  in  proceffe  although  I  know  not  how, 
The  rich  mans  Oxe  did  gore  the  poore  mans  Cow. 
The  poore  man  heereat  vexed  waxed  fad, 
For  it  is  all  the  lining  that  he  had, 
And  he  muft  loofe  his  lining  for  a  fong, 
Alas  he  knew  not  how  to  right  his  wrong. 
He  knew  his  enemie  had  pointes  of  law, 
To  faue  his  purfe,  fill  his  deuouring  mawe, 
Yet  thought  the  poore  man  how  fo  it  betide. 
He  make  him  giue  right  fentence  on  my  fide. 
Without  delay  vnto  the  Man  he  goes, 
And  vnto  him  this  fayned  tale  doth  gloze, 
(Quoth  he)  my  Cow  which  with  your  Oxe  did  feede. 
Hath  kild  your  Oxe  and  I  make  knowne  the  deede. 
Why  (quoth  my  Politique)  thou  fhouldft  haue  helpt  it 
Thou  (halt  pay  for  him  if  thow  wert  my  father,   (rather, 



The  courfe  of  law  in  no  wife  mufl  be  ftayde, 
Leaft  I  an  euill  prefident  be  made. 

0  Sir  (quoth  he)  I  cry  you  mercy  now, 

1  did  miftake,  your  Oxe  hath  gorde  my  Cow: 
Conui6l  by  reafon  he  began  to  brawle, 

But  was  content  to  let  his  aflion  fall. 
As  why.''  (quoth  he)  thou  lookft  vnto  her  well, 
Could  I  preuent  the  mifchiefe  that  befell  .'* 
I  haue  more  weightie  caufes  now  to  trie. 
Might  orecomes  right  without  a  reafon  why. 


ONe  of  the  damned  crew  that  lines  by  drinke, 
And  by  Tobacco's  ftillified  ftink, 
Met  with  a  Country  man  that  dwelt  at  Hull : 
Thought  he  this  pefant's  fit  to  be  my  Gull. 
His  firfl  falute  like  to  the  French-mans  wipe, 
Wordes  of  encounter,  pleafe  you  take  a  pipe  .'* 
The  Countrie  man  amazed  at  this  rabble, 
Knewe  not  his  minde  yet  would  be  conformable. 
Well,  in  a  petty  Ale-houfe  they  enfconce 
His  Gull  muft  learne  to  drinke  Tobacco  once. 


Indeede  his  purpofe  was  to  make  a  iefl, 

How  with  Tobacco  he  the  peafant  drefl. 

Hee  takes  a  whifife,  with  arte  into  his  head, 

The  other  ftandeth  ftill  aftonifhed. 

Till  all  his  fences  he  doth  backe  reuoake, 

Sees  it  afcend  much  like  Saint  Katherins  fmoake. 

But  this  indeede  made  him  the  more  admire, 

He  faw  the  fmoke :  thought  he  his  head's  a  fier, 

And  to  increafe  his  feare  he  thought  poore  foule, 

His  fcarlet  nofe  had  been  a  firie  cole. 

Which  circled  round  with  fmoak,  feemed  to  him 

Like  to  fome  rotten  brand  that  burnetii  dim. 

But  to  fhew  wifdome  in  a  defperat  cafe, 

He  threw  a  Can  of  beere  into  his  face, 

And  like  a  man  fome  furie  did  infpire, 

Ran  out  of  doores  for  helpe  to  quench  the  fire. 

The  Ruffin  throwes  away  his  Trinidado, 

Out  comes  huge  oathes  and  then  his  fhort  poynado, 

But  then  the  Beere  fo  troubled  his  eyes, 

The  countrieman  was  gone  ere  he  could  rife, 

A  fier  to  drie  him,  he  doth  now  require, 

Rather  than  water  for  to  quench  his  fire. 

C  Come 



/'"^Ome  my  braue  gallant  come,  vncafe,  vncafe, 
^-^Nere  fliall  obliuion  your  great  a6les  deface. 
He  has  been  there  where  neuer  man  came  yet, 
An  vnknowne  countrie,  I,  ile  warrant  it, 
Whence  he  could  Ballace  a  good  fhip  in  holde, 
With  Rubies,  Saphiers,  Diamonds  and  golde. 
Great  Orient  Pearles  efteem'd  no  more  then  moates, 
Sould  by  the  pecke  as  chandlers  m.efure  oates, 
I  meruaile  then  we  haue  no  trade  from  thence : 
O  tis  too  farre  it  will  not  beare  expence. 
T'werc  far  indeede,  a  good  way  from  our  mayne. 
If  charges  eate  vp  fuch  excefsiue  gaine. 
Well  he  can  fhew  you  fome  of  Lybian  grauell, 

0  that  there  were  another  world  to  trauell, 

1  heard  him  fweare  that  hee  (twas  in  his  mirth) 

Had  been  in  all  the  corners  of  the  earth. 



Let  all  his  wonders  be  together  ftitcht. 
He  threw  the  barre  that  great  Alcidcs  pitcht: 
But  he  that  faw  the  Oceans  fartheft  ftrands, 
You  pofe  him  if  you  aske  where  Douer  ftands. 
He  has  been  vnder  ground  and  hell  did  fee, 
Aeneas  nere  durft  goe  fo  farre  as  hee. 
For  he  has  gone  through  Plutces  Regiment, 
Saw  how  the  Fiendes  doe  Lyers  there  torment. 
And  how  they  did  in  helles  damnation  frye, 
But  who  would  thinke  the  Traueller  would  lye  ? 
To  dine  with  Pluto  he  was  made  to  tarrie. 
As  kindly  vs'd  as  at  his  Ordinarie. 
Hogfheades  of  wine  drawne  out  into  a  Tub, 
Where  he  did  drinke  hand-fmooth  with  Belzebub, 
And  Profcrphie  gaue  him  a  goulden  bow, 
Tis  in  his  cheft  he  cannot  fliew  it  now. 

C  2  One  toulde 


Of  one  that  coitfned  the  Cut-pttrfe. 

ONe  toulde  a  Drouer  that  belccu'd  it  not, 
What  booties  at  the  playes  the  Cut-purfe  got, 
But  if  t'were  fo  my  Droucrs  wit  was  quicke, 
He  vow'd  to  feme  the  Cut-purfe  a  new  tricke. 
Next  day  vnto  the  play,  pollicy  hy'd, 
A  bag  of  fortic  fliiUings  by  his  fide, 
Which  houlding  faft  he  taketh  vp  his  fband, 
If  ftringes  be  cut  his  purfe  is  in  his  hand. 
A  fine  conceited  Cut-purfe  fpying  this, 
Lookt  for  no  more,  the  for  fhillings  his, 
Whilft  my  fine  PoHtiquc  gazed  about. 
The  Cut-purfe  feately  tooke  the  bottom  out. 
And  cuts  the  ftrings,  good  foole  goe  make  a  ieft, 
This  Difmall  day  thy  purfe  was  fairely  bleft. 
Houlde  faft  good  Noddy  tis  good  to  dreade  the  worfe> 
Your  monie's  gone,  I  pray  you  keepe  your  purfe. 
The  play  is  done  and  foorth  the  foole  doth  goe. 
Being  glad  that  he  coufned  the  Cut-purfe  foe. 
He  thought  to  iybe  how  he  the  Cut-purfe  dreft, 
And  memorize  it  for  a  famous  ieft. 
But  putting  in  his  hand  it  ran  quite  throw 
Dafh't  the  conceite,  heele  neuer  fpeake  on't  now, 
You  that  to  playes  haue  fuch  delight  to  goe. 
The  Cut-purfe  cares  not,  ftill  deceiue  him  fo. 



A  drtmken  fray . 

dcke  met  with  Tom  in  faith  it  was  their  lot, 
Two  honeft  Drunkars  muft  goe  drinke  a  pot, 
Twas  but  a  pot,  or  fay  a  little  more, 
Or  fay  a  pot  that's  filled  eight  times  ore. 
But  being  drunke,  and  met  v\'ell  with  the  leefe. 
They  drinke  to  healthes  deuoutly  on  their  knees, 
Dicke  drinks  to  Hall,  to  pledge  him  Tom  reiefts, 
And  fcornes  to  doe  it  for  fome  odde  refpe6ls 
Wilt  thou  not  pledge  him  thar't  a  gill,  a  Scab, 
Wert  with  my  man-hood  thou  deferueft  a  ftab, 
But  tis  no  matter  drinke  another  bout, 
Weele  intot'h  field  and  there  v/eele  trie  it  out. 
Lets  goe  (faies  Tom)  no  longer  by  this  hand, 
Nay  ftay  (quoth  Dicke(  lets  fee  if  we  can  fland. 
Then  forth  they  goe  after  the  drunken  pace, 
Which  God  he  knowes  was  with  a  reeling  grace, 
Tom  made  his  bargaine,  thus  with  bonnie  Dicke 
If  it  fliould  chance  my  foote  or  fo  fhould  flip, 
How  wouldfl  thou  vfe  me  or  after  \vhat  Size, 
Wouldft  bare  me  fhorter  or  wouldfl  let  me  rife. 
Nay  God  forbid  our  quarrells  not  fo  great, 
To  kill  thee  on  aduantage  in  my  heat. 

C  3  Tufh 


Tufh  wc'lc  not  fight  for  any  hate  or  foe, 
But  for  meere  loue  that  each  to  other  owe. 
And  for  thy  learning  loe  He  fhew  a  tricke, 
No  fooner  fpoke  the  worde  but  downe  comes  Dicke, 
Well  now  (quoth  Tom)  thy  life  hangs  on  my  fworde, 
If  I  were  downe  how  wouldft  thou  keepe  thy  worde? 
Why  with  thefe  hilts  I'de  braine  thee  at  a  blow, 
Faith  in  my  humor  cut  thy  throate,  or  foe. 
But  Tom  he  fcorne  to  kill  his  conquered  foe, 
Lets  Dicke  arife,  and  too't  againe  they  goc. 
Dicke  throwes  downe  Tom,  or  rather  Tom  did  fall, 
My  hilts  (quoth  Dicke)  fliall  braine  thee  like  a  maull, 
Is't  fo  (quoth  Tom)  good  faith  what  remedie. 
The  Tower  of  Babell's  fallen  and  fo  am  I. 
But  Dicke  proceedes  tp  giue  the  fatall  wound, 
It  mill  his  throate,  but  run  into  the  ground. 
But  he  fuppofmg  that  the  man  was  flaine. 
Straight  fled  his  contrie,  fliip  himfelfc  for  Spaine, 
Whilft  valiant  Thomas  dyed  dronken  deepe. 
Forgot  his'danger  and  fell  faft  a  fleepe. 



T  T\  THat's  he  that  ftarcs  as  if  he  were  afright^' 

V     V  The  fellowe  fure  hath  feene  fome  dreadful! 
Maffe  rightly  guefl,  why  fure  I  did  diuine,         (fpright 
Hee's  haunted  with  a  Spirit  feminine. 
In  plaine  termes  thus,  the  Spirit  that  I  meane, 
His  martiall  wife  that  notable  curft  queane, 
No  other  weapons  but  her  nailes  or  fift, 
Poore  patient  Idiot  he  dares  not  refift, 
His  neighbor  once  would  borrow  but  his  knife, 
Good  neighbor  ftay  (quoth  he)  ile  aske  my  wife : 
Once  came  he  home  infpired  in  the  head, 
He  found  his  neighbor  and  his  wife  a  bed, 
Yet  durft  not  fturre,  but  hide  him  in  a  hole, 
He  feared  to  difpleafe  his  wife  poore  foule. 
But  why  fhould  he  fo  dreade  and  feare  her  hate, 
Since  fhe  had  giuen  him  armor  for  his  pate? 
Next  day  forfooth  he  doth  his  neighbor  meete, 
Whome  with  fterne  rage  thus  furioufly  doth  greete, 
Villaine  ile  flit  thy  nofe,  out  comes  his  knife, 
Sirra  (quoth  he)  goe  to  lie  tell  your  wife. 
Apaled  at  which  terror,  meekely  faide 
Retire  good  knife  my  furie  is  allaide. 




Time  feruing  humour  thou  wrie-faced  Ape, 
That  canfl:  transformc  thy  felfe  to  any  fhape : 
Come  good  Proteus  come  away  a  pace, 
We  long  to  fee  thy  mumping  Antique  face. 
This  is  the  fellow  that  Hues  by  his  wit, 
A  cogging  knaue  and  fawning  Parrafit, 
He  has  behauiour  for  the  greateft  porte, 
And  hee  has  humors  for  the  rafcall  forte, 
He  has  beene  great  with  Lordes  and  high  efliates, 
They  could  not  Hue  without  his  rare  conceites, 
He  was  affociat  for  the  braueft  fpirits, 
His  galland  carriage  fuch  fauour  merrits. 
Yet  to  a  Ruffiin  humor  for  the  flewes, 
A  right  graund  Captaine  of  the  damned  crewes, 
With  whome  his  humor  alwayes  is  vnflable 
Mad,  melancholly,  drunke  and  variable. 



Hat  without  band  like  cutting  Dicke  he  goe's, 
Renowned  for  his  new  inuented  oathes. 
Sometimes  like  a  Ciuilian,  tis  flrange 
At  twelue  a  clocke  he  muft  vnto  the  Change, 
Where  being  thought  a  Marchant  to  the  eye, 
He  tels  ftrange  newes  his  humor  is  to  lie. 
Some  Damafke  coate  the  effect  thereof  muft  heare, 
Inuites  him  home  and  there  he  gets  good  cheare. 
But  how  is't  now  fuch  braue  renowned  wits, 
Weare  ragged  robes  with  fuch  huge  gaftly  flits. 
Faith  thus  a  ragged  humour  he  hath  got 
Whole  garments  for  the  Summer  are  too  hot. 
Thus  you  may  cenfure  gently  if  you  pleafe. 
He  weares  fuch  garments  onely  for  his  eafe. 
Or  thus  his  credit  will  no  longer  waue. 
For  all  men  know  him  for  a  prating  knaue. 


AScholer  newly  entred  marriage  life 
Following  his  ftuddie  did  offend  his  wife, 
Becaufe  when  fhe  his  company  expe6led, 
By  bookifh  buflnes  fhe  was  ftill  neglefled : 
Comming  vnto  his  ftuddy,  Lord  (quoth  fhe) 
Can  papers  caufe  you  loue  them  more  than  mee : 

D  I  would 



I  would  I  were  tranfform'd  into  a  Booke 

That  your  affe6lion  might  vpon  me  looke, 

But  in  my  wifli,  withall  be  it  decreed, 

I  would  be  fuch  a  Booke  you  loue  to  reede, 

Hufband  (quoth  fhe)  which  books  form  fhould  I  take, 

Marry  (faid  hee)  t'were  beft  an  Almanacke, 

The  reafon  wherefore  I  doe  wifh  thee  fo, 

Is,  euery  yeare  wee  haue  a  new  you  knowe. 


SIra,  come  hether  boy,  take  view  of  mee. 
My  Lady  I  am  purpof'd  to  goe  fee : 
What  doth  my  feather  flourifli  with  a  grace, 
And  this  fame  dooble  fette  become  my  face, 
How  defcent  doth  this  doublets  forme  appeare 
(I  would  I  had  my  fute  in  houns-ditch  heere) 
Do  not  my  fpurs  pronounce  a  filuer  founde? 
Do's  not  my  hofe  circumference  profounde? 
Sir  thefe  are  well,  but  there  is  one  thing  ill, 
Your  Tailour  with  a  fheete  of  paper  bill, 
Vowes  heel'e  be  paid,  and  Serieants  he  had  feed. 
Which  wayte  your  comming  forth  to  do  thy  deede : 
Boy  god-amercy  let  my  Lady  flay. 
He  fee  no  counter  for  her  fake  to  day. 


Much  a  doe  abottt  cJm/ing  a  zvife. 

A  Widdower  would  haue  a  wife  were  old, 
-^^^Paft  charge  of  children  to  preuent  expence 
Her  chefts  and  bagges  cram'd  till  they  crake  with  gold. 
And  fhe  vnto  her  graue  poft  quickly  hence. 
But  if  all  this  were  fitting  to  his  minde, 
Where  is  his  leafe  of  life  to  ftay  behinde? 

A  Batcheler  would  haue  wife  were  wife, 

Faire,  Rich  and  Younge,  a  maiden  for  his  bed, 

Not  proude,  nor  churlifh  but  of  fautles  fize, 

A  country  houfewife,  in  the  Citty  bred. 

But  hees  a  foole  and  longe  in  vaine  hath  flaide. 

He  fhoulde  befpeake  her,  there's  none  ready  made 

D  2 



The  taming  of  a  wilde  Youth. 

/'~\F  late  a  deare  and  louing  friend  of  mine, 

^^-^That  all  his  time  a  Gallant  youth  had  bene, 

From  mirth  to  melancholy  did  decline. 

Looking  exeeding  pale,  leane,  poore,  and  thin, 

I  ask'd  the  caufe  he  brought  me  through  the  ftreete, 

Vnto  his  houfe,  and  there  hee  let  me  fee, 

A  woman  proper,  faire,  wife  and  difcreete 

And  faid  behould,  heer's  that  hath  tamed  mee. 

Hath  this  (quoth  I,)  can  fuch  a  wife  do  fo? 

Lord  how  is  he  tam'd  then,  that  hath  a  fhrow: 

A  ftraunge 


A  Jirazmge Jighted  Traiceller. 

AN  honefl  Country  foole  being  gentle  bred, 
Was  by  an  odde  conceited  humor  led, 
To  trauell  and  fome  Englifh  fafhions  fee, 
With  fuch  ftrange  fights  as  heere  at  London  be. 
Stuffing  his  purfe  with  a  good  golden  fome, 
This  wandring  knight  did  to  the  Cittie  come. 
And  there  a  feruingman  he  entertaines, 
An  honefter  in  Newgate  not  remaines. 
He  fhew'd  his  Maifter  fights  to  him  moft  ftrange. 
Great  tall  Pauls  Steeple  and  the  royall-Exchange : 
The  Boffe  at  Billings-gaic  and  Lo7idon-Jlo7ie 
And  at  White-Hall  the  monftrous  great  Whales  bone, 
Brought  him  to  the  banck-fide  where  Beares  do  dwell 
And  vnto  SJior-ditch  where  the  whores  keepe  hell, 
Shew'd  him  the  Lyons,  Gyants  in  Guild-Hall, 
King  Liid  at  Lnd-gatc,  the  Babouncs  and  all, 
At  length  his  man,  on  all  he  had  did  pray, 
Shew'd  him  a  theeuifh  trick  and  ran  away. 
The  Traueller  turnd  home  exceeding  ciuill, 
And  fwore  in  London  he  had  feene  the  Deuill. 




Three  kinde  of  Couckoldes^ 

One,  And  None. 
T^Irfl  there's  a  Cuckolde  called  One  and  None, 
-^    Which  foole,  from  fortune  hath  receiu'd  fuch 
He  hath  a  wife  for  beutie  ftands  alone,  (fauour 

Grac'd  with  good  carriage,  and  moft  fweete  behauiour 
Nature  fo  bounteous  hath  her  gifts  extended. 
From  head  to  footc  ther's  nothing  to  be  mended. 

Befides,  fhe  is  as  perfect  chaft,  as  faire, 

But  being  married  to  a  iealous  affe, 

He  vowes  flie  homes  him,  for  he  feeles  a  paire 

Haue  bin  a  growing  euer  fmce  laft  graffe, 

No  contraiy  perfwafions  hee'l  indure, 

But's  wife  is  faire  and  hee's  a  Cuckolde  fure. 



None,  and  One. 
'THHe  fecond  hath  a  wife  that  loues  the  game, 

-^  And  playes  the  fecret  cunnig  whore  at  plaifure. 
But  in  her  husbands  fight  Ihees  wondrous  tame, 
Which  makes  him  vow,  he  hath  Vliffes  treafure. 
fheele  wifh  al  whores  were  hang'd,  with  weeping  teares 
Yet  fhe  her  felfe  a  whores  cloathes  dayly  weares. 

Her  husbads  friends  report  how's  wife  doth  gull  him 

With  falfe  deceitfull  and  diffembling  fhowe 

And  that  by  both  his  homes  a  man  may  pull  him, 

To  fuch  a  goodly  length  they  daylie  growe, 

He  fayes  they  wrong  her,  and  he  fweares  they  lye, 

His  wife  is  chafte,  and  in  that  minde  hee'le  dye. 



The  Thirds 

One,  and  One. 

'nr^He  third  is  he  that  knowes  women  are  weake, 

-^  And  therefore  they  are  dayly  apt  to  fall, 
Words  of  vnkindneffe  their  kind  hearts  may  breake. 
They  are  but  flefli  and  therefore  fmners  all, 
His  wife  is  not  the  firfl  hath  trod  a  wry, 
Amongft  his  neighbours  he  as  bad  can  fpye. 

What  can  he  heipe  it  if  his  wife  do  ill, 

But  take  it  as  his  croffe  and  be  content, 

For  quietneffe  he  lets  her  haue  her  will. 

When  fhee  is  old  perhaps  fhe  will  repent, 

Let  euery  one  amend  their  one  bad  life, 

Th'are  knaues  and  queans  that  medle  with  his  wife. 






Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 

URL      ^ 


—  4  mmf' 

SEP  0  3  1994 


i  ii 


JUL  2 
iwo  week; 








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